


Between the Trees

by utsu



Series: Between the Trees [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, M/M, Series, Slow Build, Slow Burn, nonsequential
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2018-07-29 04:15:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 95,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7669729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/utsu/pseuds/utsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of naruto prompt responses I have written, and will continue to write. These and a few other stories I have not published on ao3 are all originally posted on <a href="http://utsus.tumblr.com/fics">tumblr</a>. The stories here are all NaruHina in different times, places, situations, and understandings of one another.</p><p><span class="u">UPDATE</span>: I have moved non-naruhina stories (e.g. nejiten, sasuhina, himawari & boruto, etc.) away from here. They are all still in the "Between the Trees" series, but are now separate for organizational purposes. Thanks!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: I'd break a sacred oath to see you.  
> Rating: _General Audiences._

 

There is nothing in the world so rare as true loyalty; it’s a beautiful thing, being there for someone through the trials and triumphs of time. It’s unfathomable, that kind of love, so difficult to be expressed in anything but action, the truest form of dedication.

Loyalty is a selfless form of love that, when true, cannot be fouled.

Uzumaki Naruto is loyal to his bonds, and loyal to the _end_.

And, as has been a constant throughout his life, it is that which Naruto loves that destroys him.

There is no pardon for the crimes of a man who slaughters masses dispassionately, even when he ultimately turns to fight on their side. Not even the voice of the hero of Konoha is loud enough to reach the ears of the counsel, when Uchiha Sasuke walks into his home again for the first time in years and is sentenced to death.

And there is no pardon for a man who allows his loyalty to guide him into becoming an accessory to such awful crimes.

Uzumaki Naruto follows his loyalty to the back of a temporary isolation internment cell, hundreds of feet underground, with only a halogen bulb and chakra-defusing titanium bars for company. It’s barely larger than his old apartment; the floors and ceiling are both made of the same chakra-defusing material, an inescapable titanium box.

The counsel does not allow him the courtesy of being present for Uchiha Sasuke’s execution, but the Hokage does, leading him into a secluded shadow with only the chakra-defusing cuffs around his ankles and wrists to restrain him.

Everything happens so quickly.

An unexplainable lapse in power and a five second window, and Naruto earns himself a life-sentence.

But Uchiha Sasuke escapes, and that’s all that matters.

Naruto repeats this like a mantra as Ibiki leads him by the arm down to the internment cell, his new home. He doesn’t say a word to him, and Naruto doesn’t have much to say for himself either.

The cage shuts with a resounding snick behind him, and Naruto slides down the wall and closes his eyes.  


 

✧  


 

It takes two months before Sakura convinces Ino to convince Ibiki to convince the Hokage to permit Naruto visitors. Sakura is his first, and his last for quite a while. As it turns out, prisoners of war don’t get many visiting privileges.

And that’s exactly what he is: the prisoner of a war between his best friend and his village, one he so frustratingly had to choose sides in. Sasuke will not return for him, he knows this clearly and he doesn’t expect anything less.

He goes docilely into captivity because he’s done well by his heart, and not an inkling of regret remains. He doesn’t plan on staying here forever, but he has so much time to think and to plan. Sakura would be proud of him, as she had been proud of his actions on the day of Sasuke’s execution, one of few who understood.

He spends all of his time training within his cage, and planning. Sometimes he lays aside and wonders, daydreams, pictures the faces of those he loves and wonders how time is changing them.

He wonders how time is changing _him_.

Mostly, he thinks about Iruka, and how much this must be hurting him. He tells Sakura whenever he sees her to be with him and to comfort him as best as she can with what free time she has, and doesn’t ask why Iruka doesn’t visit him.

He thinks about Hinata, too. The memory of her bright eyes and the gentleness of her smile, the rapid racing of her heart under his ear. This is still new, these thoughts, these memories. They’re novel and they’re precious and he holds on to them with an iron grip, forbidding them from leaving his mind’s eye for long.

He had only so recently translated the feelings of his own heart, and the reasons for which it sped up in Hinata’s presence, and only hers, in a way that wasn’t fear but _hope_. He had only just begun to hold her hand, to be able to reach out and trace the delicate points of her cheekbones, and the soft curve of her chin. He had only been able to lay his ear against her chest the one time, and how he regrets not doing that sooner, not pressing close enough to hear the way her heart calls to him in the same way that his calls for her.

It’s not fair, he thinks, to have realized he loves her moments before being taken from her forever.

Sometimes, when the shadows of his cage press in against his skull, he wonders if she’s hurting. If she feels the magnetic pull that he feels between them, the one that draws him to sit up against the corner of his cage closest to the exit, closest to _her_.

He knows why she does not visit.

Naruto has always been the kind of person intent upon hearing important conversations, whether or not he is invited to them. After so many years of eavesdropping on Tsunade’s conversations in the Hokage tower, he’s learned a lot about the nefarious workings of Konoha’s underground factions.

For instance, the oaths shinobi must swear when one of their own goes rogue, is apprehended, and imprisoned. He’d never heard about anyone of his status being imprisoned, and none for _life_ , but he’s willing to assume that the information he’d gathered about similar oaths still apply, if not even more critically.

_Under Directive S, upon which a Konoha shinobi of outstanding rank be taken into long-term custody of Konoha’s imprisonment system,_ Tsunade had read from the scroll in her hands, in perfect monotone to a room full of ANBU and counsel members. _Prisoners will receive no visitation outside of family. No removal from the cell. No relief of interrogation when mandated and until utility expires. No providence for—_

Naruto had listened long enough to understand that Sasuke was in trouble, _serious_ trouble, and had tried desperately from then on to find a loophole without success. He can still hear Tsunade’s final recitation, the words barbed and blade-sharp.

_Under oath to the Village Hidden in the Leaves and the gods residing over us, every Konoha shinobi must consent and vow to uphold this Directive._

He’d left moments later, before Tsunade entered into the options of dissent and where disagreement amongst shinobi would lead the Directive into further political change.

He’d gotten enough then to know now that his current situation, tucked so meticulously out of sight so as to be out of mind, is dire.

His friends will have had to swear the oath, and sign the Directive.

Naruto has known Hinata long enough to know that there isn’t a universe in existence in which she would voluntarily sign that oath, with him as the captive. He knows this in the same way that he had known with conviction that he would save Sasuke before their home erased him.

He takes the time every day to pray for Hinata; for her to rest well and to wake up feeling rejuvenated, for her to be safe, for the weight of her soul to be lifted if only temporarily every day, enough to let her feel peace.

Seeing as the counsel will know what he knows about her loyalty, they will have planned accordingly; as such, he asks most frequently for her rest and her safety. 

Long-term missions are an easy measure for prevention of dissension, after all.  


 

✧  


 

Naruto loses track of time in the cage, and starts measuring it by Sakura’s visits. Three since having been imprisoned, and with a bulk of time in-between. He would estimate somewhere just shy of a year, if pressed to make an honest estimate.

It’s been enough time for him to plan, and to plan well. He does not intend to spend his life locked away from his loved ones, docile to an unfair sentence, when he had moved to save the life of someone who wanted to change for the better.

He waits for Sakura’s next visit, and he’s careful in the way that he asks new questions. Sakura is the smartest person he knows, right next to Kakashi-sensei, so she sees right through him easily.

She says, “Naruto,” when he asks how Hinata is doing, and if she’s home from her latest mission. He is careful to keep his expression only openly curious, eyes wide all the while so endlessly tired. He has all the time in the world to sleep down here, but sleep rarely comes. The bags under his eyes are heavy, pulling his expression down. Dreams are figments of the distant past.

“I’m just curious,” he says, and then, because he knows he’ll need to tug at her emotional attachment to him ever so slightly just to get an upper hand, he frowns and adds, “I miss her. I just want to know how she’s doing. If she’s okay.”

“She’s okay,” Sakura says haltingly, carefully, in just the way that Naruto knows to mean that she’s not being completely honest. After a long moment of consideration where Sakura deliberately does not look at Ibiki over in the doorway, she whispers, “She’s home, but not for long. The counsel is working her hard, constantly sending her squad out. Their reconnaissance is useful for the tensions running between us and Mist right now, so they have the perfect excuse to overwork them.”

Naruto’s shoulders bow under the news, though hope settles in heavy and novel in the corner of his heart. He reaches out and wraps his hand around one of the bars, a brainless mistake, and the metal acts as a black hole’s orbit he’s suddenly been caught in, taking and taking and taking from him until he falls to his knees. He rips his hand away and it trembles before his eyes, and even with the incalculable measure of his and Kurama’s chakra within him, the power of the charka-defusing bars around him leaves him dizzy. It could’ve been worse—he’s tested the walls of his cage frequently over the months of his stay.

He knows from experience that dizziness isn’t a great sign, but it’s not a bad one, either. It means he still has so much left to give, and that he won’t forget not to touch them again. Especially not so close to the fruition of his plans, all steadily falling into place before him. This had been an irritating setback, but not by much.

“I hope she’s resting well in-between,” he laments, not knowing what else to say. When he gets back to his feet, there are tears trailing down Sakura’s cheeks. He can sense her need to reach out to him, to pull him in against the warmth of her chest. The bars stand tall and impenetrable between them and Naruto reaches up and touches his own cheek, right where her tear trail is.

“I hope you are too, Sakura-chan,” he adds, smiling. “I can’t be the only one getting good rest!”

Sakura snorts, no real humor behind it. “You’re not sleeping well,” she says honestly, watching the way he holds his expression so carefully still. “You’re not sleeping at all.”

“I have all the time in the world to sleep, believe it,” he says, eyes flickering over her solemn features. “Seriously though, you need to get more sleep.”

It’s then that Ibiki straightens, a slow rippling of muscle unfolding, and Sakura’s time is up. Naruto senses his lost time viscerally, and his lips rush to get the words out, his plan still prevalent in the forefront of his mind.

“Tell Hinata too. Tell her I say so, tell her tonight is the night, if she’s just gotten back from her mission she can rest.”

“I will,” Sakura says, and Naruto knows he’s got her in the way her voice trembles, in the way she lingers behind until Ibiki’s hand wraps around her arm, fingers gentle but insistent. He guides her to the exit, the seemingly endless flight of stairs up into the next level of darkness, still closer to daylight than Naruto is. He watches her go, even as he calls out to her, says, “I’ll be okay down here, believe it! Never a challenge I’ll back down from!”

The door at the base of the stairs slams closed, and Naruto lowers himself to the floor and crosses his legs, knuckles against knuckles and thumbs pressed together.

He sets his plan in motion while Ibiki is distracted and he has the knowledge he’s been waiting for.

He thinks of Hinata and he gathers chakra along his veins.

The time has come.  


 

✧  


 

It’s not easy, breaking out of a prison that’s built to withstand someone with Naruto’s level of chakra, experience, and power.

It’s not easy, but Naruto has broken through more formidable challenges in the name of bonds, and even then, only a few of them had ever been as strong as the bond between him and Hinata.

He’s spent months perfecting a shadow clone that retains his power, so much so that it’s convincing enough to not even draw Ibiki’s eye. He leaves him in his cell and flits through the shadows of Konoha under midnight stars, until he manages to find himself outside of the Hyuuga compound. His eyes widen at the heavy security, countless Hyuuga shinobi stationed along the entirety of the perimeter, both inside and outside of the gate.

Naruto chews on his lip, frowning and confused, until he shifts his position and can just make out the oval window of Hinata’s private room.

There are guards there, too, and understanding floods Naruto with a tired kind of anger, heavy and slowing.

Not only had the counsel been working to keep Hinata from seeing him, despite the oath Hinata must have given, but her family, too. Long-term missions to keep her away and tire her out, and an army of family to form a blockade between the two of them.

Even though the moon is lodged directly overhead in the obsidian sky, Naruto knows that the entirety of the Hyuuga compound has eyes open and wary. It wouldn’t even take that many Hyuuga shinobi to sweep the compound, not with their far-reaching Byakugans activated.

Naruto can’t say that he expected an army of Hyuuga to stand between him and Hinata, but he’s not entirely stilted, either. This way, he just has to be quicker than they can track; quick enough to disengage the two sentries closest to Hinata’s window, and the one near her hallway. His ability to sense chakra has advanced over the years, and his closeness with Hinata over the few months before he was imprisoned meant he’d gotten a lot of practice sensing Hyuuga chakra signatures.

Naruto moves quickly, soundlessly, into the courtyard. The first two sentries are no match for his speed and the precise chop of his hand against their throats, and consciousness leaves them instantaneously. He helps their bodies fall silently, and lays them partway under the wood paneling of the deck, just outside of Hinata’s window.

Had there not been an army of relatives outside of her window, had Naruto had all the time in the world, and had Naruto any room for manners he would not have just broken into Hinata’s room without at least knocking or alerting her.

But he has none of those things, so he makes her room easily and passes her startled shadow by in order to incapacitate the cousin in the hallway, dragging her motionless body back into Hinata’s room and tucking her into the corner as carefully as he can. He slides Hinata’s door shut and closes his eyes, letting his sensory chakra flood out of him to see the rest of the compound in as similar a way as someone without Byakugan can. The nearest sentries stand still in their positions, too far for Hinata’s room to be in their field of extended vision.

He opens his eyes and the weight on his shoulders dissipates the moment he turns and sees her, for the first time since being locked away underground.

She’s as beautiful as he remembers, every night that he pictures her face, and her eyes glisten with pearls of moonlight, slipping down her gaunt cheeks. He frowns, going to her without hesitation, enfolding her in his arms and tucking her head against his neck. His fingers card through her hair and he closes his eyes, struck with bone-deep pain when she sobs quietly against his chest, her hands fisting in his prison jumper. She holds him tightly, as tightly as he imagines he’s holding her, and he runs his hands through her hair and hums against her, soothing and temperate.

“Oh,” she breathes shakily, and he pulls back just enough to press kisses against her temple, her cheek, the hinge of her jaw. “Oh,” she breathes again, when he lifts his hands to her jaw and presses their foreheads together, lips so close to touching, so close Naruto can barely breathe with the desire to just _allow_ it.

“I missed you,” He whispers against her skin, lips just off-target, pressing against the apple of her cheek. She trembles against him, and he says, “I love you. Are you well, Hinata?”

It’s his own question that reminds him of the gauntness of her cheeks, and the business of her schedule. The utter and complete exhaustion riding her frame, putting lines of strain on her pale face. She pulls back enough to look up at him, tears pooling in the splendor of her depthless gaze. She looks up at him in wonder, in awe, and it breaks Naruto down a little how unguarded she is for him.

“How,” she breathes, and then she lifts herself onto the tips of her toes and presses her lips to the strong line of his jaw, the tip of his chin. “How are you here?”

He gives her a wry smile. “It’s kind of a long story, but it was really freakin’ sneaky, believe it.”

The joy that blooms over her expression knocks the breath out of Naruto’s lungs, and he thinks there won’t ever be a sunrise the world can offer that will be as beautiful or as welcoming as that smile on her face.

“Hey,” he breathes, so quietly, suddenly shy. He reaches out and runs his thumb along her bottom lip, eyes tracing the movement. “Can I kiss you?”

“Naruto-kun,” Hinata whispers, and she lifts herself back onto her toes at just the same time that he allows his shoulders to bow under the luster of her tender gaze, and the way her fingers thread into the longer hairs at the nape of his neck—longer now, without proper haircuts. Long enough for her to grasp and pull, until her lips move over his with a shaky breath of excitement and exultation.

Naruto takes control of the kiss immediately, uncontrollably, hands moving away from her cheeks to slide down her curves, until he can get a hold of her thighs and pull her up against him. She gasps against his lips even as she wraps her legs around his waist, and he presses his hands against her tailbone, wanting her as close to him as he can possibly get her.

Her hands slide to hold his jaw, angling his mouth up to meet hers again, her hair a curtain of the night sky cascading around them. She kisses him with a desperation he knows in his bones, every breath shared between them a promise and an apology for time lost and not enough time to make it all up.

Naruto kisses her knowing that time is running out. He presses kisses along her jaw and down to her throat, sucks intently at the pounding of her pulse, and shivers under the feeling of her fingers carding through his hair.

“I’ve been trying,” she breathes, voice trembling. “So hard, to come see you. They won’t let me, but that’s never stopped me. I’m going to keep trying. I won’t ever stop trying.”

“I know,” he says, lips against her skin, eyes suddenly getting watery. “I know, Hinata.”

She pulls his head back so they can look each other in the eyes, and she takes in the unabashed showing of his tears, the trembling but smiling lift of his lips. She leans in and kisses him slowly, carefully, in a way that she might have if they truly had all the time in the world. When she pulls back again, she repeats her last sentiment, drilling it into his head, “I won’t ever stop trying.”

“I think you should,” he admits, and he knows that she’s going to retort, to argue, so he moves quickly to explain. “There are rules, Hinata. Really serious ones. I don’t want you to break them and get into trouble to see me. Not when I can come see you instead.”

“And take all of the danger and threat of retribution onto yourself?” She asks, shaking her head even as she bends down once more to press a chaste kiss to his already swollen lips. “I won’t allow you to do that on your own, Naruto-kun. I love you, and I’m not going to leave you.”

“I’m already sentenced for life,” he argues, frowning up at her. “They can’t do much else to me, even if I break some rules. The consequences will be less forgiving for you, because you’re free. Don’t you see that? This is something I can do.”

“It is,” she agrees, and she runs a hand through his hair, from forehead to nape, so gently he closes his eyes for the duration of that slow slide of fingertips over his skin. When he opens them again, he sees the pain in her eyes coupled with determination, and he knows that in this, he will lose. “But it’s something I _must_ do. For you, but for me, too. You are my heart, Naruto-kun. I won’t stand idly by while you’re locked away.”

Naruto can feel his resolve waning under the steadfast certainty in her eyes, and the desperation of her lips pulling at his, pressing close with fingers tracing over his features, trying to memorize him by touch and taste alone.

His last defense is weak, something they both already know, but he offers it anyways. He says, “You made a promise, Hinata, as a shinobi of Konoha. Are you so willing to betray it?”

Hinata pulls back and untangles her legs from his waist, sliding slowly down the length of his body with the help of his hands supporting her. She threads their fingers together and leads him to her bed, uncaring that she’s still in her gear, sandals and all. She crawls under the sheets and waits for him to follow suit, until the both of them are on their sides and facing one another, their foreheads touching.

She reaches out and traces the line of his cheekbone in just the same way that he always does to hers, and she smiles.

Hinata doesn’t look away from him, and her voice, while low, is so heartbreakingly sincere that all he can do is stare at her in wonder.

She whispers, “I’d break a sacred oath to see you.”

And all of the heaviness and the loneliness, the worry and the fear that Naruto has felt for the past year scatter, leaves in the wind. He pulls Hinata in against the length of his body and presses them together, lips moving against hers with renewed desperation.

“I won’t ever stop coming to you,” he promises, and the words are a brand on his heart, the most powerful part of him, so indomitable and profound that nations have shuddered at the mere tale of it—and he gift-wraps it for her, this most incredible and beautiful of souls, the woman he loves.

“Believe it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: I just want Naruto and Hinata to be the most adorable tangle of sweaty palms and blushing cheeks walking around being completely inseparable with constant teasing remarks thrown their way because it took them long enough and when they’re alone they put all that pent up tension to use and slam each other against walls and scratch nails into skin and curve in to one another because they just can’t ever get close enough.  
> Rating: _Explicit._

It’s an entirely different world she wakes up to, when Naruto is at her side.

She used to wake up early to water her plants and go on her errands, if she didn’t have a mission, and the streets were a welcome and soothing reprieve. She could walk through each market area with simple nods and greetings, all hushed and in passing. The sun would kiss her skin, and she would look up into the sky and everything would be still.

Naruto claims her as his own and makes sure the entire village knows, and every trip outside her home thereafter becomes an adventure in social politics and vibrant well-wishes.

People call out to her on the streets, hands falling on her shoulders, pulling her aside to talk and ask and project. She doesn’t mind the change, though at first it’s difficult to get used to such a stark difference between what she had known and what now _is_. When she heads into the markets alone she leaves now with friends, with acquaintances, people who follow her and only want spare moments of her time, so easy for her to give.

She wonders if this is how Naruto feels, now, since having saved this village. If it’s possibly to grow comfortable with this level of attention, unavoidable and intersecting into every compartmentalized section of her life. She wonders if this is what Naruto feels like when he walks through the streets of Konoha, picking up friends like strays.

Hinata doesn’t hate it, though she wonders, too, if she might let the people down. She’s not as vibrant as Naruto, and she’s nowhere near as extroverted. She folds in on herself in the evenings like a flower tucking itself away for the night, and blooms anew every morning, in her own time. A pale lily in deep soil, alone and separate but somehow still entrenched in the leaves, somehow still _together_.

Ino and Sakura, extroverted themselves, are quite used to similar attention. Though there’s still a difference, there, in that the people want to be close to them to be close to them, and not because of any significant other that’s in their lives. It was Naruto that shone a light over her, bright and glaring, one she couldn’t and didn’t particularly want to hide from.

It was Naruto who stood atop the highest point in the village with her in his arms, nose tucked against her neck and smile pressed against her skin for all the world to see.

And since then, she hasn’t had a single day in the village without being called out to. It baffles her sometimes how many people know her name and her face, though she knows that it shouldn’t. Besides Naruto’s influence, she is also the head of her clan, a leader in her own right. A warrior of battle and politics, both.

She smoothes a hand down the fine silk of her formal kimono, one of several that she has taken to wearing within Konoha’s walls, blatant signals of her power in this village. The Hyuuga crest warms her, pressing heavy and unforgettably between her shoulder blades. She shifts her hand to catch the wide, gaping sleeve grazing over her left wrist, and her thumb runs across a hastily sewn patch. Hanabi’s needle-work, still in need of improvement.

And Naruto’s crest.

It’s tucked on the inseam of her sleeve, miniscule compared to the crest on her back and a little difficult to see, but it makes her feel like she has Naruto with her at all times, and that’s _something_.

She didn’t need the reminder of it today, however. Naruto waits for her at the gates of her compound, leaning casually against them and picking idly at his nails with a kunai. Hinata slides the gate shut behind her, cheeks already tinged rose just at the sight of him. She turns with a small smile, tucking some of her wayward hair behind her ear. It’s since grown longer, the tips of it grazing her rear. Naruto peels himself away from the gate the moment he sees her, his lips curling in an instant, eyes gleaming.

“Hey,” he says, and he moves into her space without hesitation, without question. His forehead presses against hers, one hand already coming up to run his fingers through her hair, all the way from her temple to the flare of her hip. He presses his chin forward until his lips are a breath away from hers, so much so that she can feel the heat of him, the citrus on his tongue. She doesn’t know if he does this on purpose; it’s a fairly recent change, this almost teasing of lips a breath away from her own. It forces her to step closer, to press up onto the tips of her toes to catch his lower lip between her teeth. She blushes every shade of sunset but she doesn’t pull away, even when she hears an ever-familiar groan behind her.

“Listen,” Yamanaka Ino says, and Hinata knows without having to turn and look that her arms are crossed over her chest, one foot tapping. “We’re just going shopping, lovebirds.”

Hinata flushes to the tips of her ears, laughing lowly against Naruto’s chest as his arms come up to surround her. She turns in the breadth of his embrace, pleased that he doesn’t move to release her, and smiles kindly at Sakura and Ino. They’re mirroring each other, hips cocked and expressions playfully protective. They pin Naruto in place, a specimen on a board, and it really shows how confident he is that he doesn’t flinch.

Either that, or how utterly lacking in self-preservation he is. Hinata truly thinks it’s a toss-up.

“Good morning,” Hinata offers, and Naruto rests his chin on the top of her head even as he says, “You’re so mean.”

“Keep it in your pants, Naruto,” Sakura says blithely, flipping her short hair out of her face. “She’s got a reputation to uphold.”

“I know!” Naruto asserts immediately, which startles Hinata into blinking a few times. The thrum of his chest against her back warms her, but the surprise of his insistency regarding her position in the village sets chills along her arms. “Believe me, I know.“  
  
There had been languorous talks for weeks about how Naruto would fit himself into Hinata’s life, once she became the clan Head. Her father was a rock, sharp edged like fractured stone, and Naruto was a persistent and resolutely immovable place. And Hinata was a stream bubbling between them, caught and held, calming and neutral. Eventually she talked them both into agreement, walking away with both her father’s approval and Naruto’s heart still good and fully held in her hands.

Her political savvy was not to be underestimated, after all.

“Well?” Sakura sighs, stretching her hands over her head. “Let’s do this thing.”

“You make it sound like we’re going to war,” Ino snorts, even as she reaches out and threads her fingers through Sakura’s, tugging her against her side. Sakura moves willingly, smiling.

“Been there,” Sakura sighs, sounding bored. “Done that. Shopping is a new kind of monster, especially when it’s _wedding_ shopping.”

Naruto sidles up to Hinata’s side, fingers following Ino’s arc and sliding through Hinata’s until their palms press together. Hinata maneuvers her way with her friends into the market streets with perfect poise, even with a train of fabric trailing behind her, the alabaster silk already fringed along the hem. She thinks of Hanabi’s stubborn frown, needle in one hand and fabric in the other, and thinks she’ll like the challenge and the practice of fixing up such elegant material. Hinata only hopes she doesn’t angrily destroy the entire gown, once Hinata hands it over to her for fixing.

“I don’t really get why _we_ have to be going shopping,” Naruto suddenly whispers, leaning down closer to Hinata’s ear so that Sakura and Ino don’t catch wind of his words. “They’re the ones getting married.”

“Sakura is your sister,” Hinata responds easily, “and Ino is going to be her wife. Of course they want family to come shopping with them; this is also a big moment.”

“Shopping?” Naruto snorts, “a huge moment? I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it,” Hinata grins, stealing his catch phrase and turning it against him. His eyes leap to hers immediately, swirling with good humor, bright and effervescent in the early morning sun. He tightens his grip on her hand and leans down rather abruptly to steal a kiss from her lips, almost knocking against her forehead.

He’s standing back to his full height a second later, and when Hinata garners enough composure to look back up at him, she sees the lightest dance of rose across his tanned cheeks, reaching so far as the tips of his ears. It makes her laugh, nearly silently, a quiet exhalation of joy.

They make it to their first shop and Ino and Sakura immediately disappear into the deepest and darkest corner of the store, searching for the perfect material, the perfect traditional lace and silk. Hinata wanders far more slowly behind them, with Naruto in tow. They touch different swathes of fabric, playfully holding them up to one another and laughing at certain patterns that truly clash. Naruto, of course, likes them the most; especially the ones in orange and rust, with sunflowers in repeated pixels. Hinata lifts the material in front of her eyes and puts it back a moment later, laughing behind her hand.

“No,” she says, when he demands she put it in her hand basket. “We are not getting that fabric, Naruto-kun.”

Naruto purses his lips for a moment, eyes squinting, and then opens his mouth to unveil what Hinata is certain would be a truly creative account of why he absolutely _needs_ that material. He barely gets a word out before someone clears their throat just a pace beside them, and Hinata turns to see a close group of older women smiling at them. Hinata immediately bows her head, as respectful and well mannered as always. Naruto, however, just says, “What’s up?”

“Oh, well,” one of the ladies says, pushing some of her graying hair behind a curiously small ear. “We were just a little surprised to run into the two of you here. Are you shopping together?”

“Yes,” Hinata answers her, smiling kindly. Naruto rubs idly a the back of his neck, and Hinata knows he’s already bored of the conversation but trying to be polite all the while. She also knows that he’s most definitely still thinking about the fabric.

“Well isn’t that just wonderful,” the woman says, and she gestures for the rest of her friends to step up beside her, coming closer to Hinata and Naruto both.

“We all really support the two of you, you know. Such good-hearted young people. Strong wills.” One of the other women says, her eyes trailing over to Hinata specifically. “And so kind.”

Hinata feels heat in her cheeks, her smile curling up a little higher. “Ah, thank you very much.”

“Mae guessed the closest,” the first woman says suddenly, and Hinata turns to her in slight confusion. “We were all so certain that it would be sooner, but she said that with you taking over your Clan and all, it would take longer.”

“I’m sorry,” Hinata says, after a long moment of trying to follow the woman’s train of thought. “I don’t quite understand.”

“Why,” the woman gasps, her smile brightening the entirety of her expression. Her friends flutter around her, cheery and blinking. “About you young ones getting married, of course!”

Hinata’s entire face flames with understanding, until she can feel the clamminess running down her neck. When she risks a glance up at Naruto, she finds a bead of sweat running down his sideburn. He lifts a hand to scratch at it, and in the next moment his eyes are squinting shut with the vivacity of his smile.

“Oh,” Hinata says, at a loss for words. “We’re not—”

“You’re right about that,” Naruto interjects, without looking at Hinata and her startled expression. “We’re waiting a little bit. I’ve only just barely gotten her to agree to go out with me, you know!”

“Oh please,” one of the women further back says gaily, playfully rolling her eyes. “As though our princess would ever turn you down!”

“I remember when she was just a tiny little thing, all eyes. She used to follow you around whenever she could find you—”

“Oh,” Hinata feels the breath pushed out of her lungs, embarrassment clawing up her neck with heat. She laughs a little at the reminder, and watches the way Naruto’s laughter starts from the base of his lungs and rises in peals through his throat.

“Yeah, I was a little slow to realize that. But I got there eventually, ne?”

Hinata wonders at the maturity in the words, and the way they seem to be prefacing something she and Naruto hadn’t even thought to talk about yet. It was just as the women and Naruto both had said: Hinata was busy with assuming the leading role of her clan, a languorous process of its own, and she and Naruto were still fresh in their relationship.

They had not talked about marriage, and Hinata still thinks it too soon to even debate it.

But Naruto’s words and the strength of his fingers wrapped so carefully around hers, well, they feel a bit like a promise. Like an answer.

“That’s true,” the woman named Mae says, giving Naruto a particularly critical glance, though it was edged in amusement. “You really took your sweet time returning her feelings, didn’t you?”

Hinata feels her heart pound unsteadily in her chest and glances up just in time to catch Naruto’s expression, quirked and flushed in embarrassment. He rubs at the back of his hair, mussing it up until it stands on end.

“You’re really putting me on the spot here, old lady.”

“Naruto-kun!” Hinata hisses, smacking his arm. He recoils playfully, and the women only laugh. “Don’t be rude.”

“I guess she’s right,” Naruto concedes with a sigh, his grin curled higher in one corner. “Kinda embarrassing to hear it, though.”

“Well,” the woman sniffs playfully, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “You two are truly adorable.”

“And we should probably let them be,” the woman from the back says, and she starts to shepherd her friends towards the store exit, offering one last wave before stepping through the doors.

Hinata turns to Naruto with cheeks aflame, and Naruto’s expression is almost a perfect mirror when he turns right back to her. They both burst into laughter until they recognize Ino’s voice chattering away and coming straight towards them, with Sakura step behind. They break through the hanging fabrics and the aisles and aisles of folded material and Sakura immediately says, “Are you guys making out in the corner? What did we tell you about PDA?”

Naruto groans, lets his head roll forward until his forehead rests on Hinata’s shoulder. She lifts a hand and rubs gently at the back of his neck, soothing little circles to accompany her quiet laughter.

“That was _one time_ ,” Naruto drawls from Hinata’s shoulder, still not moving even when Ino and Sakura walk past them and gesture for the exit. When Hinata starts to turn to follow them, Naruto finally lifts his head and there’s a new kind of gleam in his eyes.

He says, “But I wouldn’t mind doing it _again_.”

Hinata pretends like her heart doesn’t give a conciliatory thump against her ribs, and her ears are burning with embarrassed heat. “That’s exactly the kind of attitude that led us to being heckled like this, you know.”

“I know,” Naruto beams, reaching back to grasp her hand again. His palm is a little sweaty, and she thinks those older women really had grilled him, more than he ever let show. “And it would be so worth it again.”

Hinata shakes her head in amusement, and they follow Ino and Sakura back onto the street. The moment they turn the corner, people start calling out to them. Naruto mostly, but there are still the every now and again villagers that notice her first, from her striking eyes and even more striking robes. Naruto always presses a little closer to her when they call out to her, almost protectively, almost possessively, and it makes her knees feel weak.

Ino and Sakura swing their joined hands between them and continue down the street ahead of them even as someone moves out of the crowd like a shadow. Neither Naruto nor Hinata flinch at his sudden presence, because they’d know him anywhere, even without looking. Sasuke slides up beside them with his hands tucked into his pockets, head bowed slightly in boredom.

Naruto brightens, smile a little sharper. “Hey bastard, you get invited to the shopping spree too?”

Sasuke doesn’t respond with anything more than a pointed eye roll, entirely disdainful and aimed directly at Naruto. Hinata smiles, used to this interplay, and continues to walk between the two of them, Naruto’s hand in hers. She catches Sasuke studying their interlinked fingers, and follows his gaze even when he meets hers, unblinking. Her smile is a little shy, as it always is with Sasuke. He doesn’t say anything, but even the peculiar rise of a single eyebrow somehow makes her feel like he’s teasing her. She turns away from him and blows a puff of air out at her bangs, her free hand coming up to fan her heated face.

“It’s warm today,” she mumbles, and she refuses, _refuses_ to look at Sasuke again to gauge what she knows will be an amused expression. Naruto swallows heavily at her side and says, “It really is.”

“It’s not,” Sasuke says, sounding far too smug. Hinata wants to roll her eyes at the tall man, but she also doesn’t want to turn to him and let him see how perfectly riled up and embarrassed he’d made her with so little effort.

Sakura turns over her shoulder and narrows her eyes at Sasuke, not surprised in the slightest to see him suddenly in their group.

“Nice of you to show up,” she says offhandedly, and the words are sharp but not in a way that Hinata thinks is actually dangerous. “Why are you walking with the lovebirds and not us?”

“Are you and Ino not lovebirds?” Sasuke responds, utterly deadpan. Sakura snorts and gets Ino’s elbow in her ribs for her trouble.

“We love each other,” Sakura agrees with another flip of her hair. “But we aren’t itching to constantly undress each other. Like _some_ people we know.”

“Sakura-san!” Hinata hisses, lifting a hand to cover part of her face. Her skin is so fair, every single embarrassing remark shows up clear as day, stains of petal pink over the bridge of her nose and the roses of her cheeks.

Naruto is surprisingly quiet beside her, and when she chances another glance up at him, she immediately wishes that she hadn’t. He’s staring down at her in a way that directly proves Sakura’s remark correct, his eyes expressive and heavy and _intent_. Hinata turns way from him and tries to work on her breathing a little more, so Sasuke’s smirk might dwindle from his smug face. Sakura walks with a little added bounce in her step, and Ino glances over her shoulder with mischievously gleaming eyes, as though she’s biding her time for her own time to strike.

They make it to the next shop unscathed, and manage to pick up Rock Lee, who immediately dives into helping Ino and Sakura find the most durable and inexpensive but high-class fabric in the store. Sasuke idles around the perimeter of the store, and Hinata sees him pick up a square of fabric by the very tips of his fingers every few minutes, as if he can’t physically stop himself. He picks up every shade of black he finds, which are admittedly rare, but so typical. Hinata laughs aloud, and he glances up at her with sharp eyes and an upturned smirk, almost a pout. Payback is sweet.

Naruto pulls her to the opposite side of the store with an abrupt burst of intent, so much so that she wonders what might’ve caught his eyes. As it turns out, she thinks in flustered amusement, it was just her.

Naruto tucks her into the corner and immediately dips towards her, lips pressing against the hinge of her jaw. He whispers, “I want to kiss you and I don’t want to stop.”

Hinata’s smile drops off her face like a stone, and her heart’s playful flutter becomes more of an intent march towards the conclusion both of them want, and very nearly _need._ Naruto presses her into the corner and she lets him, she completely lets him, going slack in his arms and curling into his chest, her lips seeking and finding purchase on his strong jaw. She sucks carefully for only a moment, trying to control the pressure, but even still she pulls away and a little mark is left behind. She blinks at it in wonderment, then embarrassment, and Naruto pulls back to see her expression with heavy eyes.

He lifts a hand to the spot, the pads of his fingers trailing over it almost reverently, and hisses, “Unfair, Hinata.”

“What are the rules, then?” she asks, quieter than a whisper, than a breath. “Tell me.”

“You know there aren’t any for you,” Naruto rolls his eyes, crowding her further until the weight of his body was everything she had against her, until he was the only thing on her mind. “But I can’t leave marks that can be seen.”

The moment the words are out of his mouth, Hinata watches recognition spark in his eyes, fuel on flame, igniting. His smile is a slow unfurling of intent that promises everything her heart can barely take to handle, and he moves without hesitation to press his lips against her exposed collarbone. She hisses, negation already on her lips, but Naruto pushes the hem of her Kimono aside and starts sucking intently at the skin just over her breast, right over her heart, where the fabric would cover her skin once he straightened it back into place.

Hinata doesn’t have it in her to stop him, not when his left hand grips her hip hard enough to bruise, five distinct marks of passion and restraint that make her mewl. His right hand holds the fabric aside with careless dexterity, and Hinata bows against the pressure of his beautiful mouth.

She doesn’t know how long he stays there, but eventually he trails kisses up her chest, over her throat, and finds his way back to her lips. He sucks lightly at them until they’re bruised, and then he pulls back. His lips are just as swollen, red and plump and enough to send chills racing down Hinata’s spine. She raises a hand to push lightly at the wide expanse of his chest, easing him off and away from her so she can balance without the crutch of the wall behind her. She straightens her robes as best as she can, still breathing laboriously, and shoots a pointed, glaring look back up at Naruto when her collar doesn’t lie flat against her chest. It covers Naruto’s love mark well enough, but it’s apparent that it has been _moved_.

Naruto’s grin is every underhanded maneuver in a game of desire and boundaries they’ve been playing for months, and Hinata is as weak to it now as she always has been.

“You never said anything about clothes,” Naruto whispers, smiling with too many teeth.

Before Hinata can respond to that with something of a retort, Sasuke looms around the corner. She flicks her gaze to him, notes the pained expression, and immediately knows that he had walked in on their little game. If her cheeks hadn’t already bled red before, they would now. Instead of retreating into the wonder of Naruto’s chest like she desperately wants to, she lifts her nose and tries to appear unaffected by his blatant and amused discomfort.

He sighs, chest rising only to heave. “They didn’t like any of the fabric, and Lee went home crying. We’re moving to the next shop.”

Hinata and Naruto trail behind him, but not before he casts Naruto with a look that blatantly expressing something along the lines of _you owe me_.

When they make it through two more shops and Hinata has three more love marks hidden under her robes, and Naruto’s hair is unmistakably ruffled, like someone’s fingers have been running through it, she realizes that Ino and Sakura aren’t actually seriously looking for anything. She doesn’t know why it took her so long to catch on, especially when they picked up a new friend before and after every new store, and each and every one of them made a point to put she and Naruto on the spot for being blatantly ready to claw one another’s clothes off. There were a lot of offhanded remarks about how long it’d taken for this to happen—this being she and Naruto together—and a lot of them ended with eyes gleaming in mischief.

By the time she and Naruto make it back to his apartment, Hinata is already expecting the upcoming week to be more of the same. Ino and Sakura had demanded that they accompany them until they find the perfect material, and now that Hinata is privy to the underhanded plan her friends had set up, she’s perfectly aware that Ino and Sakura were pretty much putting she and Naruto on display.

Because they’re together. Because Hinata has been waiting so long for this reality, and Sakura and Ino are the two people in the world who know it _best_ , and they want everyone to see it and realize it.

To actualize it.

It’s a silly and terribly convoluted plan to make Hinata both embarrassed and pleased, but it’s also sweet, in the way that Sakura and Ino and their dangerous plans can sometimes be. She really does appreciate it, though being trapped with Naruto in public, unable to do anything but steal kisses and touches in dark corners is honestly starting to feel less like a game and more like torture.

Or foreplay, Hinata thinks, as she and Naruto step through his front door.

They’re not even a step in when Naruto turns and pushes her against the door, clicking the lock into place and lips already pressing against the thundering beat of her pulse. She reaches up to his shoulders and holds on for dear life, her hands so small against the sheer bulk of him. He’d spent a lot of time growing taller, his muscles spreading lankily along limbs too long for his body.

But then he settled out, and his muscles began to grow firmer, more defined, stacking on top of already wide shoulders and a lithely defined waist. As Naruto continued to train and to fight on the warfront, he grew into his long limbs. He grew his hair out, too, long enough to be gather into a tail just over his nape.

Hinata, all the while, grew into her big hips and chest, her thighs more muscle than fat but still undeniably supple. No matter what kind of training she does, too, she can’t seem to get rid of her ass. It’s probably for the best, though. She’d made the mistake of asking Naruto if he knew any exercises to lighten the bulk and really tone back there, and he’d immediately lifted her by said rear and carried her to the bedroom to tell her all the reasons he really hoped she’d _not_ try to get rid of it, though—

“It’s totally your choice of course,” he’d breathed, “But please do not get rid of your ass. I _love_ that ass.”

And just like that, it was all too easy to grow comfortable with her body in all regards, most especially because Naruto touches her in a way that’s nearly reverent. He does so now, too, as he always does; his fingers slide carefully along the slope of her waist, fingers reaching to grasp carefully at her flanks. They pant against each other, citrus and mint, and Naruto lifts her into his arms until her hands slide into his hair and _grip_ , and he pushes his forehead against her sternum, nosing at her breasts.

“Fuck,” he whispers when his lips slide over one of her already pebbled nipples, sending a jolt through her spine. She arcs against the door at her back, pushing her chest as close to Naruto as she can without falling away. Hinata lets him nuzzle against her for a few more moments before she tightens her grip in his hair, pulling his head away and looking down into his heavily-lidded eyes.

 “Naruto-kun,” she says, voice low but steady. “Please.”

Naruto is already walking them towards his room, but he stops first to press her roughly against the hallway wall, accidentally upending a picture of Naruto and Iruka-sensei holding a bedraggled kitten. That same bedraggled kitten eyes them from the living room, eyes glowing in the shadows, tail swishing. Hinata closes her eyes and lets Naruto suck along her skin, making a necklace of bruises around her throat. She knows she’s going to suffer for it in the morning, when she has to wear a high collar under her robes the next day, but for now all she can think about is other places she might get to feel Naruto’s mouth.

She tightens her legs around his waist and he slides them away from the wall obediently, until Hinata is falling backwards, landing loftily on a feather-soft mattress scattered with sheets and cat hair. She hopes Konoha stays in the living room and doesn’t try to cuddle them again like he had last time things got heated and intimate in Naruto’s bedroom. Not that Hinata doesn’t love the little gray, but sometimes she wants to throw Naruto and herself around without worrying about accidentally kicking her favorite kitten.

“You’re distracted,” Naruto breathes against her collarbone, forehead pressed to her neck. He’s trembling over her, his left hand pinning her wrist to the bed by her head while his right hand slides over her navel, searching for the tie that will loosen every layer of her formal robes.

“Then make me focus,” she whispers, and she finds the tie for him, loosening the knot at her tailbone with a single flick of her wrist. Naruto puts his all into everything he does, and intimacy with Hinata is no different. He releases her wrist and she turns her head to watch the pale imprints of his hold smooth away from her skin, until she can see the red rings of them around her wrist. She takes in a shaky breath and turns back to him just as he starts spreading her robes apart until she’s lying naked on nothing but silk, the Uzumaki insignia facing upright at her hip.

Naruto drops to his knees between her legs and sucks lightly at the crease of her hip, moving slowly until he spreads her, too.

The first touch of his tongue against her is hot against hot and somehow, chills start to build and cascade down her spine. Her eyes squeeze shut on a jagged inhale and Naruto slides a finger over her clit before pressing gently into her. He doesn’t waste time in preparing her with one finger, because by now he’s learned that she likes the stretch of two, the slight burn that accompanies moving a little too fast. It’d taken months to remind him that he doesn’t need to ask if she’s okay, after the first time. Months of having to tell him she wanted him to be a little less gentle with her, that she won’t break, and that she wants him to lose control with her.

Naruto doesn’t ask if she’s okay, and he slips a second finger inside of her at the same time that he lavishes her with his tongue. He presses close enough that his nose touches her skin, and he moans against her. The vibrations send her writhing against him, hips wanting to rise, but weighed down by the arm he has banded over her wide hips.

“Oh,” she moans, lifting a hand to bite gently at her wrist. “Oh my God.”

She feels the beginnings of that ever familiar but always changing tingling sensation, knowable and unknowable all at once. It builds and builds while Naruto adds a third finger and bites gentle against her labia majora, playful and intent both. He thrusts his fingers at a steady and breakneck rhythm, thumb rubbing relentless circles over her clit, and something in her stomach catches like a flame. He lets her hips rise up from under the weight of his arm as her orgasm ripples through her; her voices catches around his name, breathed long and low into the night air.

She settles back against the sheets and lets her eyes stay closed for a moment longer, jolting every now and again as Naruto continues to press doting kisses to her most sensitive of places, then the crease of her hip, before his tongue delves into her navel. She looks down at him and catches his playful smile, but it’s overshadowed by the arousal in his dark eyes, cerulean pools of promise. She curls a finger at him, still trying to catch her breath even as he slowly crawls up the length of her body.

Her body feels too loose for her to control, but she has always been stronger than her body’s limitations. She didn’t become one of the most powerful shinobi in the village with a weak mind, or a weak will.

So it’s easy to grip Naruto by the ribs and throw him under her, until her ass rubs deliberately against his clothed erection. She leans down, breasts trailing ever so faintly against his chest, before sliding her way down his body until she can get her fingers in the waistband of his pants. She wastes no time in being playful—their entire day had been spent teasing, after all.

It’s easy and familiar, the weight of Naruto’s cock in her mouth. The sounds he makes are familiar, too, and they encourage Hinata to try harder, to move more deliberately, every slide of her tongue purposeful. Naruto grips the sheets with roughened palms and his back bows up against her technique, but his hips stay exactly where she pins them, her hands holding tight. She takes him all the way into her mouth and lets him feel the back of her throat, a careful fluttering of pressure as she swallows, then slides back up and off. Naruto chants her name in disjointed pleas, voice husky and rasping on every syllable, like he can barely manage to get the words out at all.

Hinata feels the tremors in his thighs and the watches the way his abs flex in a particular cascade, and a few quick moments later she swallows hot come, her eyes never leaving his upturned jaw. He melts back into the sheets and Hinata licks carefully at the head of him, watching as he jolts at the touch, in just the same way that she had with his fingers still pushing, even after her orgasm. She wipes at the corner of her mouth and climbs up the long length of his body, until she can rest her head on his shoulder, lips pressed against his throat. She rests her leg across his hips, feels his right hand come up and around her shoulders to pull her in closer. He turns his head and presses a kiss to her mussed bangs, the side of her forehead, and she can feel his languid smile.

“That was awesome,” he breathes, and Hinata puffs a quiet laugh against his heated skin. She traces a finger over a scar just under his nipple, one she wonders at often, since he usually heals too quickly and efficiently to scar. She gets distracted by the scar, though she hears the low rumble of Naruto’s voice. It takes him saying her name a few times, then asking if she’s sleeping before she focuses back on what he’s saying.

“Marriage?” She repeats, glancing up with wide-eyed wonder. He stares down at her fondly, his eyes heavy and doting.

He says, “Yeah. Do you know when you want to get married?”

“I don’t know,” Hinata admits, frowning a little. “Is this because of what those ladies were saying? There’s no rush, Naruto-kun.”

“I know, yeah,” he says, and his fingers trace indiscriminate patterns along her shoulder. “I just want you to know that I’ll wait, however long.”

Hinata doesn’t say anything to that, just presses closer to him and smiles against the muscle of his chest, wanting to get as close to him as she possibly can, in every way.

“Okay,” she breathes at last.

And it is.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina (Naruto POV) Prompt: Nard and Hinata have been married for 20 years. They are nearing 40 and Hinata is a bit self conscious about her extra weight and such. Plus Nard's new secretary is just so young. Nard on the other hand doesn't know how Hinata does it. He still catches himself staring at her after all these years. Like, how can she be sexier and more attractive than yesterday? Just the other day he thought he was checking out another woman and then she turned around and it was Hinata.  
> Rating: _Mature._

Sometimes when Naruto looks at her, he remembers the moment Iruka-sensei saved his life.

There’s a connection between the two that he can’t put into words, can only _feel_ , one that means safety, and hope, and _home_.

Hinata has become all of those things, to him.

Naruto watches the way she moves through their place, fingertips sliding over surfaces of walls and desks on her way to the kitchen, leaving behind the scent of fresh lavender. Sometimes that’s all he does, is watch.

(Sometimes he does more)

The legal document that binds them says that they’ve belonged to one another for twenty years, two decades of ups and downs they’ve weathered with love and courage, together.

Naruto has belonged to Hyuga Hinata for much longer than that, though.

He still looks at her sometimes and remembers that red scarf, and the feeling of snow melting around his aching body, so small with such big pain. Sometimes he remembers iron bars and piercing screams, blood spilling over home soil, and the one-two flicker of his heartbeat a moment before his rage overcame every ounce of his control in the form of Kurama.

Sometimes he remembers the first feeling of her lips on his, and how gentle he had been, and how her hands had slid into his hair and _pulled_.

He loves the look and the feeling of her, has never loved anything _more_ , so it follows that with all that watching he does he’d soon notice the subtle signs of her growing insecurity. It startles him, when he sees her own hands tracing the slope of her curves and her resulting frown. Her lips purse, brows drooping in concern, and Naruto’s heart flickers in his chest.

At first, he suspects that she’s pregnant—again. It’s a very typical _him_ thing to expect, and being that he is an incredibly impulsive person, he excitedly asks her about it one day.

As it turns out, this was exactly the wrong thing to misunderstand.

“Why would you think that?” Hinata asks him, and her eyebrows, so expressively _sad_ , scold Naruto. He deflates instantly when she says, “Do I l-look larger?”

“No!” He immediately refutes, before quickly scanning over her body. He realizes with disappointment that it’s _true_ , she hasn’t grown larger at all, and he had gotten too excited for a possibility that was so clearly refuted now.

“I just thought—“ he starts, but doesn’t know how to verbalize what he’d thought without offending her more. He shakes his head, moving towards her until his hands could slide over the breadth of her wide hips, up the slope of her waist and back to rest over her tailbone. Her arms come up and around him without hesitation, and he tucks his chin against the cove of her neck, allowing the heat of her skin to soothe him. “Never mind. I jumped to conclusions and got excited because, well, it’s hard to explain.”

He can’t really just come out and say, _I’ve noticed you’ve been feeling yourself lately_ and expect her to take him seriously. So he doesn’t say a thing, and instead, he shows her exactly how wrong every one of her insecurities are, right there on the kitchen counter.

 

✧

 

Sometimes when Hinata looks at him, she remembers pain’s face moments before he almost killed her.

The memory is an amalgamation of emotions, good and bad, but mostly it’s the pivotal point of her expressed freedom to be herself. She had told Naruto she loved him, and she had fought with her all to protect him, and she’d done _well_.

That moment, suspended in time and hitched in her memory like a fringed tapestry, recalls every feeling of hope towards the future, even when she hadn’t been sure she’d live to see one.

It’s followed soon after by her eyes opening to a hospital room, and Naruto sitting at her bedside, bandaged and tearful but _smiling_ —this memory is nothing but good, even when she became aware of the pain. Still good.

Still good.

It baffles her now, so many years later, that she and Naruto belong to _each other_. She had been his since the moment she’d seen him in action, heard and felt the courage and the compassion in him, that telltale indomitable caring. She had been his since the start.

To think about him belonging to her, now, that they’ve been married for two decades and have had two children together—it’s a striking zap of joy upon every retelling.

Time has aged them both in many ways, though Hinata has noticed far too much of it as of late. She stands in front of the mirror and traces the curve of her hips, and the softness of her skin. There’s more of it, now, and she wonders sometimes if Naruto notices.

If it bothers him, that she’s big.

The thoughts are an incessant chatter she can’t rid herself of, even when he continues to touch her so lovingly, so gently, hands sliding over hips and flanks and thighs, endlessly seeking. He touches her with a dual-edged kind of careful carelessness, as though he’s running out of time but he’s imprinting every inch of her to memory regardless.

It’s difficult to feel anything from his touch but love and adoration, and to get anything from his heavy gaze but attraction, but even still—

Hinata has always struggled with insecurity.

She wishes it had nothing to do with Arai, Naruto’s new secretary, because she’s a kind woman and she’s a hard worker and Hinata _likes_ her. She’s a sweet girl, respectful and dutiful, and she reminds Hinata so much of Kurenai-sensei it’s impossible to treat her with anything other than affection.

She’s also beautiful in a way Hinata has always dreamt of being, and she knows it. Her confidence is something Hinata admires and looks up to, even if the woman is nearly twenty years her junior.

Sometimes Hinata thinks about Naruto and Arai spending so much time together and she has doubts—not because of anything that Naruto or Arai has ever said or done, but because Hinata isn’t quite used to being confident in herself. It’s a difficult road to self-love, and it’s one she’s still traveling.

Hinata blows a buff of air up at her bangs and straightens her shoulders, lifting her chin. She smiles at herself in the mirror and studies the laugh lines creasing her skin with eyes gleaming in wonder, and in joy. She doesn’t view them negatively, not when so many incredible memories had been their cause. She traces them lovingly and remembers as many of them as she can, and she smiles.

She greets the day, and she smiles.

 

✧

 

Naruto is so _bored_.

No one ever warned him about all of the paperwork that comes with being Hokage, and honestly, he should’ve been warned. Kakashi-sensei keeps trying to tell him that he _had_ been warned, by several people, including Kakashi-sensei, but Naruto’s pretty sure he would’ve remembered something like that.

Pretty sure.

He finds himself spinning around in his chair, knees hitting the edge of the desk every now and again. It’s a beautiful, bright day out in Konoha and he has so much work to do but he can practically _smell_ Ichiraku from here, and he’s hungry anyways.

Arai walks into the room a moment before he leaps out of his chair and plans to walk out of the Hokage tower, and slams a brand new stack of paperwork right in the center of his desk—probably more village plans. He glances at it forlornly, expression drooping. He squints at the ink scrawled overtop and decides it doesn’t sound incredibly important, and continues to inch towards the door, as though Arai won’t even notice.

She does, though. “Where are you going, Hokage-sama? You have work to do here.”

“Okay, but listen,” he starts, turning back to her with one finger raised. He opens his mouth to explain, watching the way she turns to him and crosses her arms, resting her weight on one hip. She looks so unimpressed, as though she _knows_ he’s about to spout some incredulous nonsense.

That look has him switching tactics immediately. Instead of the explanation he was going to give, something that would’ve been short and sweet like _I’m hungry_ , he says, “Arai-chan, you’re a hard-working young person. And my sensei always taught me that the best training for hard-working young people was—”

“Hokage-same, if you suggest I go anywhere that involves nudity _one more time_ ,”

“I wasn’t going to!” Naruto hurries to deny, shaking his head. “I was _totally_ going to suggest that you forge my signature on all those plans you just delivered, believe it. I have a really easy signature, just splatter some ink and make a spiral, gets them every time—ask Shizune!”

Arai’s expression somehow manages to drop even further, as though the life was slowly being leeched out of her. Naruto decides that this, truly, is his best chance.

“Thanks!” He chirps, and before she can even straighten he disappears in a flurry of smoke, which then sets the fire alarms off throughout the Hokage tower.

He lands on the street outside and curses, lifting a hand to scratch idly at the back of his head. He glances back up at the windows and can see Arai opening them and fanning the smoke out with what looks to be a scroll, and he knows he’s going to get an earful from Iruka-sensei.

“Probably worth it,” Naruto mutters to himself, ignoring the curious looks being thrown his way from passerby. He tucks his hands into his pockets under his Hokage cloak and starts whistling, heading straight for Ichiraku. He lets himself enjoy the soft touch of the sun on his face, smiling up at it with eyes closed. He doesn’t get much time just to himself, though.

After a moment he senses pitter-patter around him, and before long he finds a group of kids surrounding him. They pace him step for step, smiling up at him, some pulling bravely at the hem of his cloak. He laughs with them, answering their childish questions and giving spectacular advice when he can. He greets the young and older adults that call out to him as well, returning their smiles and their kindness.

It isn’t long before he turns the corner and sees Ichiraku, and his small group of young kids has grown to a wide berth of children, teens, and young adults radiating around him. He wonders if they’re all planning on coming to Ichiraku, and if he’s going to be responsible for their bills. If so, he’s not above pulling a Kakashi-sensei.

He has a family to help feed, after all.

He glances up from one of the teens he’d been challenging to spar and almost stops walking, his eyes falling over a particularly beautiful set of legs. For one heart-stopping moment Naruto feels ashamed of himself, for experiencing such a sharp reaction of attraction to a relative stranger, before everything in his system cools and calms.

He knows those curvaceous legs, and the wide but sloping hips they lead up to. And truly, when he calls out her name, Hinata turns over her shoulder in surprise. His heart kicks back up into an accelerated pace, and he moves towards her with long strides, his smile breaking out across his face like sunrise.

“Hey,” he breathes, as his hands find purchase on her hips, cupping gently and pulling her into the cove of his larger body. He leans down carelessly and kisses her, sloppy and loudly just to make the kids go wild. They coo and shout out about cooties, gross adults, and pervy Hokages. When Naruto pulls back, only enough to see her elegantly flushed expression, every ounce of tension in him subsides.

“Hi,” she breathes, and he can feel her hands slide up to his chest. “I was just getting take-out.”

Naruto’s heart bounds double-time, and he leans back in to press smiling kisses to her throat. The kids go wild again, some of the older ones disappearing to give them privacy, and the younger from embarrassment.

“I love you,” Naruto breathes, “I’m so damn lucky.”

Hinata laughs, a stunned sound, and Naruto nuzzles against her neck and shoulder. He feels her lift onto the tips of her toes until her lips could press against the skin just below his ear, a moment before she whispers, “The feeling is mutual.”

And Naruto plans instantly for Sasuke to be watching the kids tonight, because he and Hinata are going to have plans.

And these plans are the kind he _loves._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet is a spin-off/continuation of [this post](http://utsus.tumblr.com/post/141113588469/imagine-this-naruto-is-the-leader-of-a-gang-and) for mafia au.  
> Rating: _Teen and Up Audiences._

“Listen, we didn’t agree to do business with you just because everyone knows your name,” the man says, and every line of him is indiscriminate bluff. Naruto let’s him continue to speak anyways, because he’s honestly a little curious – what brought this man and his underlings all the way to their warehouse, where everything is shadows laced in gold, razor shavings sharp enough to _cut_.

He’s also curious about the burn mark on the man’s cheek, and how it’s shaped so familiarly, a trademark of sorts, of a rival organization. He grins, razorblade sharp, and thinks of thunder, and of lightning.

“We expect to get paid more than our competitors, the same garbage you’ve apparently employed.”

“That’s true,” Naruto nods, pensive. “I have employed a large amount of garbage. It’s so easy to find, though, and so easy to get rid of. You have to appreciate the easy power of it, at least.”

The man’s eye twitches, and Naruto knows the only reason he doesn’t say something acerbic and cutting is because Naruto could kill him single-handedly. He almost wants to acknowledge it, out loud, just to see the man’s reaction. It would be too dangerous for him to laugh, and rude of him to ignore the obvious, but Naruto almost wants to watch his eyes leap to the space where Naruto’s right arm had once been.

_Almost._

But this is business and he doesn’t have the time for games right now, especially petty ones for his own amusement. He’ll have time for that later.

“We want our cut,” the man says through gritted teeth, and the men and women behind him encroach closer, a protective shell closing in. Naruto stands alone in front of them, one-armed and smiling, and it’s the man with the burn mark on his cheek that flinches at the movement.

“And we want it _today_.”

“Yeah?” Naruto asks, tone pitched in wonder. He strokes his chin, glances up idly into the overhead rafters, streamed through with sunlight. He replies, “Wanna know what I want?”

And he waits, because he’s learned a little something about manipulation over the years. It’s easy to be a good student when the teacher holds your heart.

He’s rewarded when the man forces an answer out, through gritted teeth, a single pointed, _what_?

“I want to know why I found paperwork with your signature on it, in the very same cavern i was taken to when I was beaten and abducted,” Naruto says, with an easy smile. “I want to know quite a bit about that, actually, ya know?”

This time, the man does step back, an obvious and cowardly but expected retreat. Naruto’s eyes, cat-like pinpricks, leap to the movement and hold him down in place, a bug pinned to a board, open for inspection and desecration.

“I,” the man stalls, and he doesn’t quite turn to look at his second-in-command but the woman moves forward regardless, stands at his side even while she quakes. She doesn’t meet Naruto’s eyes, she’s not a high enough rank to deserve it, and she knows it.

“There’s no proof,” she starts, voice steadier than Naruto expected. He tilts his head at her, and the image of predator and prey resurfaces almost palpably. “We would _never_ –”

“No proof?” He reflects “I threaten you with treason against our family and your first thought is to be defensive, and deny?”

Naruto turns his gaze back to the man with the burn and he laughs, he _laughs_. “This isn’t fair, man!” Naruto says, and he groans, utterly put-upon. “This isn’t even a challenge for _me_.”

“We’re your people,” the man hurries to say, “we’re branded with your names.”

“A mark is just a mark,” Naruto says, and he brings up his nails and scratches down the skin of his cheek, five red trails beading over the scars on his face. He watches them watch him, for only a moment, and then he leaps forward so suddenly no one has a chance to react, not even to gasp.

He straightens, so close to the man he can smell the sweat of him, and brings the sharpened point of his nail to press so very delicately to his cheek, right over the burn. Low as a whisper, he sings, “And you have a history of complications, where marks are concerned!”

The man doesn’t move an inch, barely even to breathe. A spark of something like confidence alights in his eyes, and he says, “If you hurt me, you’re going to lose business. You’re going to lose money and land and province.”

Naruto pulls back in affront, expression openly confused.

“Hurt you?” he says, blinking slowly. He backs up until his back is against a crate, taller than he is, and then he leaps easily upon it. He sits there for what feels like ages and thinks it over, purposely makes them wait in the tensed silence around them, palpable and heavy, like smoke.

“Oh,” Naruto says at last, with realization. His eyebrows jump in genuine surprise, and he says, “Oh, no, you have it wrong, man!”

And this makes the man falter, an apparent shift in his just-moments-before confident demeanor, a cascade of tension threading through his calm, from nape to heel. He doesn’t take a step back, not even when Naruto lifts himself up and slides off of the five foot crate he’d leap onto. Naruto would have given him points for courage, had he not seen the trembling of his hands.

The crate creaks beneath the removal of his weight – solid and muscled and _threatening_ – a predator unfolding from his perch, and he bounces forward until he’s only a breath away, one arm falling heavily around the man’s shoulders. It’s not the comfort it’s masked behind, and the man inhales under the weight of Naruto’s shoulder.

Naruto drags his head closer, until his lips are at the man’s ear, and his voice moves through, as smooth and heated as absinthe.

“I don’t hurt people,” he whispers conspiratorially, laughing a little. “I _kill_ them.”

Naruto can see it all happening like a movie behind his eyes: the man pushing out of his grip the next moment, until there’s enough room between them for him to feel only monumentally threatened, rather than already standing in his grave. Naruto laughing, clutching at his stomach, lifting a finger to wipe away at amused tears.

It’s what could have happened, had he not held the man in place with sheer strength, in his one arm, his _one_ arm.

“Shh,” he chides, head still touching the man’s temple. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“But–”

Naruto uses the hand slung around the man’s neck to lift his chin, until his eyes refocus ahead of him and he can see the way she slides away from the shadows, the first sign of her presence the cavernous gleam of her pale eyes.

The man wheezes as though punched, and Naruto realizes again that this man actually has a pretty high standing in their organization, considering. He is the only one of his legion that recognizes her, and what her presence means. He gasps, “ _No_ ,” and the people behind him draw their weapons out of confusion, out of concern, out of fear.

Naruto turns over his shoulder with a toothy grin and says, “uh, uh, uh,” and they desist immediately, startled and fearful. He turns back and rests his head against the man’s, watching fondly as Hinata moves into view, the daughter of darkness bathed in light.

“Hello, Ken-san,” she greets, and her smile promises the spill of secrets and confessions, and a trail of lives scattered like leaves in Fall – and how fitting, Naruto thinks, considering that’s her specialty.

The fall of men.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Can u do an angst prompt where hinata gets rlly hurt and naruto gets rlly mad and ends up crying in front of the kids? maybe an old enemy please?  
> Rating: _Teen and Up Audiences._

There had always been something distinctive about Hinata’s touch—something softer, and gentler, and more purposeful behind every motion. Midnight stream movement, with earth-shaking potential.

Naruto remembers her hands, trembling, holding out an offering of healing cream when he’d been roughed up and broken down at the Chuunin exams. He remembers her hand in his, years later, smooth and slight and strong.

He remembers watching her incapacitate enemies with a flick of her wrist, the gentle persuasion of delving fingertips in just the right places. He remembers the coming and going of power and forgiveness in her hands, and the way she held him so carefully the first time they made love.

Maybe it was the way she used her hands for both healing and destruction, for comfort and chaos. The subtle press of her fingertips against his cheek in the morning could so easily rouse him, could bring warmth radiating up and through his skin. Often, she would card her fingers through his hair and gently massage his scalp, her fingers each uniquely powerful in their variability.

Eventually, Naruto truly began to feel that Hinata held his entire world there, in her hands.

Her hands, pressed against the backs of each of their children, nestled against her legs—her hands, reaching out to his, pulling him into the warmth of her open embrace—her hands, tracing the mismatched lines of scars along his body with a lightness to their touch that made him shiver just to remember it.

Now, memories are all he has left of that touch.

Shock still radiates through Naruto in fine currents, his spine ramrod straight, his eyes wide and wild. Boruto and Himawari are with him, now, each with a hand threaded through Naruto’s own. He can feel the warmth of their fingers in his and his heart cries out with a painful lurch, as they step through the hospital room and find Hinata just as he’d left her that morning.

She smiles when she greets them, and there isn’t a flicker of insecurity in her gaze, or the subtle lift in the corner of her lips. It’s as though she doesn’t even recognize the bandages, or what they signify. Naruto waits for her to reach out to them, to welcome Boruto and Himawari into her arms as she so often had, and Naruto struggles to find his next breath.

“My sun, my stars,” Hinata calls softly, eyes dancing from Boruto to Himawari with tender reception. “How was school today?”

And Naruto grits his teeth and thinks: it isn’t _fair_.

This isn’t their first time seeing their mother since the accident—the _accident_ —but Boruto and Himawari treat it as such; they flit to her sides, hands reaching for her where she can no longer reach for them. They coo and report about their classes, their newfound knowledge, and their cheeks press lovingly to her chest, her shoulder, anywhere they can press close enough to remind themselves her heart still beats.

Naruto watches this with jaded eyes, his vision blurring without the presence of tears. _They’re too young for that_ , he thinks despairingly; too young to mask gestures of comfort and greeting for furtive, desperate proof of life.

Naruto stands over them, and his eyes never once leave Hinata’s smoothed out expression, the gentle way her lips frame words of comfort and joy. He has to catch himself, even so many days into their new routine, expecting to see her hands carding through their hair.

Naruto’s hands curl into white-knuckled fists, valleys of ash and jagged bone. He doesn’t need to close his eyes to see the man’s face in his mind, flashing across his eyelids, grotesque and misshaped. His heart thunders in the coliseum of his chest, a premonition of vengeance he can only remember having felt in lesser shades of shadow and grit. Sasuke, Orochimaru, Kabuto.

_Kabuto_.

Hinata senses the change in him even before he realizes there is a change—how could he recognize a difference? Every day and night since she’d returned home he has only seen _red_.

“Naruto-kun,” she says, voice steady. “Come here.”

Naruto barely hears the words. He acknowledges the change in him, now; he feels more than sees that this is more than a simple monotonous cloud of anger shading his vision with red, but a murky flush of scarlet, thick as blood, heavy as hate, roiling through his skin. It flushes out all of his compassion, excretes every relief of his empathy through his pores, and he feels the jagged point of his canines elongate until he’s not only seeing and feeling the bloodlust, but _tasting_ it.

“ _Bastard_ ,” he thunders, and the room quakes. His unseeing eyes flicker, and his chest feels too tight for the fury inside of him.

“Naruto-kun,” Hinata says again, in the same voice, in the same volume. Nothing about it has changed, but somehow, it catches on him, seeps through and takes hold. His eyes shift to her, trace the stern lines of her expressive eyes and the concerned lines of her pursed lips. Her strength, coupled with her concern, are enough to knock him off his feet on a good day.

This is not a good day.

He is not knocked off his feet at the reminder that there is someone in the world that looks at him and sees worth, sees light, sees hope. Her steady gaze, unflinching and kind, does not calm the thundering of his heart, or the smoke in his mind that manages to cast every source of light into shadow. It does not move through him in waves, usually so gradual and stunning, stopping every process in his mind and body in its tracks.

She stares at the monster in him with love and concern and her gaze slices through him quick and hot as a stroke of lightning, and he is not knocked off his feet.

He is brought to his _knees_.

He barely feels the impact, barely sees the scrunched faces of his children, pressing close to their mother but looking on at him in frightened alarm. That steady gaze of hers levels the rage in him, flares it out like a blast zone, leaves him a barely pieced together survivor, breaking at the seams.

He wants to move closer to her, to press against her in the same way that their children have, wants to feel the subtle pressure of her hands moving rhythmically over his back, up his neck, into his hair. He wants to take back the time, to any and every moment he has ever encountered Kabuto, and he wants to _wipe him from this earth._

He wants, and he wants, and he wants.

He feels tears sting his eyes and overflow, racing down his cheeks and off of the trembling line of his jaw.

“I’m _angry_ ,” he cries, responding to that stare, knowing the demands of it—that they do not lie to each other. “That word, anger, it doesn’t even cover it. Not the half of it. What I feel,” he sobs, air trapped in the pit of his throat, vision blurring; “What I feel is more than _hate_.”

That someone as gentle and giving as Hinata had been the one to fall into hands so unlike her own, so cruel and vindictive and _careless_ —there was no outcome more undeserved.

“Come here,” she says again, with the first sign of a tremble in her voice. Her eyes leave his for only a moment as she mutters quieting words to Boruto and Himawari, ushering them with nothing but her voice to seek the nurse at the front desk, and ask where the snack machine is. Boruto understands the need for this gentle dismissal better than Himawari, but is stubborn enough to part his lips in protest—yet, Himawari had always been more perceptive of the emotions of others, and so slipped her fingers through Boruto’s, guiding him towards the door.

Naruto remains on his knees, fists clenched on his thighs, ever-shaking. He blinks a fresh wave of tears down his cheeks and tries to swallow around all of the undirected rage caught in his throat. He feels like a bomb, slowly ticking away, with no destination set but the very heart of him.

He glances away from his fists and finds Hinata’s gaze once more, and something there has him rising to his feet, moving closer. Her eyes have always been powerful, mysterious in their abilities and their potential, and he has never been weaker to them than now.

He is the strongest shinobi in the village, the one with the most power, the one who makes the greatest decisions. He is feared and revered and spoken of in hushed whispers in every country, and he has never once backed down from a challenge. He is formidable; he is a stronghold.

He looks down at Hinata, her body so still, the spaces where her arms should have been now as empty as he feels inside, and he can do nothing but crumble against her.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, and it becomes a chant pressed into the skin of her throat.

_I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

He can feel the phantom touch of her fingertips carding through his hair, knows the weight and the press of them more intimately than the feel of a kunai in his hands, and he weeps.

She hums against him, and he feels a wetness against his upturned cheek that is new, and sudden. He pulls away from her with heaving breaths, and finds tear tracks sliding down her cheeks. She is unashamed of them, wears them openly. The shock of seeing them has him stilling, his breaths calming into something of a restful pace for the first time since she’d returned.

This is the first time she had cried, since.

Since.

“It’s going to be okay,” she says, and Naruto feels the hand of shame strike him. Here she is, lying in the hospital, recovering from surgery, trying to come to terms with the loss of her arms, and _she_ is the one comforting _him_. What more can he say to her that he hasn’t already? How many times is he going to have to apologize to her for being weak—too weak to stop this from ever happening, too weak to be strong for her when she needs it most?

“Hinata,” he breathes shakily, eyebrows dipping in despondency. He does not say the words again, _I’m sorry_ , but he feels them, and he presses them into her through his lips against hers. He pushes their foreheads together for the briefest of moments, and when he pulls away, her cheeks are flushed with red.

This is not an unfamiliar reaction, and the familiarity of it has Naruto’s heart, a wild beast in its cage, finally beginning to settle. He reaches forward and strokes her cheek with his thumb, staring down at her and hoping beyond hope that she can see and feel every ounce of the love that he feels for her. He doesn’t know if it’s possible to voluntarily radiate love, like a chemical released within one’s body, but he tries. For her, he tries.

“It’s going to be okay,” he echoes her words back to her, knowing now that they should have been his all along. He strokes her hair, touches her face, and carefully leans against her. “It’s going to be okay.”

“It is,” she agrees, breathing around the fingertips he presses lightly to her lips, exploring the soft, rosy skin. “Now they need to hear you say it, too.”

Confusion fractures a line across his expression before he turns over his shoulder, finds his children in the doorway, expressions an amusing blend of hesitant and insistent. Boruto has Himawari in his arms, hitched on his hip with her arms around his neck, and his eyes never waver from Naruto’s. Himawari’s oceanic gaze sweeps over him and finds her mother, and concern falls under the wayside when she sees Hinata’s smile.

“Come,” Naruto says, curling a finger. Boruto doesn’t hesitate. He moves until he and Himawari are at Naruto’s side, and his wide eyes study the tears slowly drying on Naruto’s cheeks. He does not wipe them away.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and it’s okay, because Boruto and Himawari deserve to hear it, need it said only once. “Not for crying, but for getting so angry. I frightened you, huh?”

Boruto purses his lips, obviously not wanting to admit to it, but not wanting to outright lie, either. Himawari slides off of his side and moves until she’s standing beside Hinata’s shoulder, and Naruto’s hip. She glances up at him with her too-bright gaze, and she says, “You did. You _really_ did.”

Naruto feels his heart lurch in his chest, and he glances to Hinata for strength. She gives it with a smile, with a softening of her expression, and he breathes easy once more. He knows that his outburst, the first of such an uncontrollable caliber that he’s ever shown before his kids, needs to be turned into a lesson. He knows that Hinata needs it to be, and he’s grateful that he knows her well enough to know that he needs it to be, too.

“Anger like that,” he begins, locking eyes with Boruto and Himawari in kind. “Is dangerous. You’ve seen it firsthand now, right? It hurts the people around you—the people you love. It’s important to control it. If your mom hadn’t helped me, I could have seriously hurt you.”

“But you didn’t,” Hinata joins in softly, her voice soothing. “Naruto-kun, my world. You _didn’t_. That’s important, too.”

“Yeah,” Naruto agrees, after a pause. He watches her, as her voice lulls them all into a sense of comfort; the way that the tension in Boruto and Himawari gradually fades out, until they’re lying on the bed on either side of Hinata, nestled close.

Hinata takes over the lesson, because this is what she’s always been so good at—leading those with questions, to answers. The loss of her arms, of nearly her entire fighting technique, is not something that simple words can make up for, or make right. Kabuto’s enduring existence, and the fury that Naruto feels towards him, are not so easily cowed by simple words. But they are impeded, locked down and settled in with control, and that makes a difference. It makes all the difference.

What has happened to Hinata is traumatic, and it will change her, change all of them. But they have experience with this—Sasuke had lost one of his arms not so long ago, after all—and they will get through this. Naruto had known years ago, when he had looked at her and seen everything good in the world in the slight curve of her smiling lips, that he would be there for her always, no matter what.

He will be here for her, through this harrowing change full of questions and uncertainties, just as she had been for him. He knows that she’s going to come out of this even stronger than before, knows it just by looking at her; sees it in the softness of her acceptance, the strength of her determination, shown in the strained lines of her brows. _My world_ , he thinks, before his eyes flicker over Boruto, and then Himawari.

_My world, my sun, my stars._

He watches Hinata teach their children how to fight hatred and anger with control and with compassion, and his heart reignites with warmth and power, a surging comet lighting up every corner of the darkness that resides within him.

They will have so much to learn, in the future. But they will do it all as a family.

Hinata will do what she has always done, effortlessly, beautifully; she will teach them.

And she will mend what, and whom, are broken.

The gentleness of her touch transcends physicality, after all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Can you do one where they are in battle can be sometime before they have kids or after but hinata is close to dying (still survives) and naruto freaks out and tries to help her u know what I mean??  
> Rating: _Teen and Up Audiences._

Sometimes, there’s a name you can place to your pain; a person or a thing that was the cause and the catalyst, the one thing in the world at that moment that your focus hones in on, and it’s easy to say the name.

Naruto has known many people, many things that have caused him pain.

His own name is at the top of the list, after all.

But there have been others, too; he is not the sole party responsible for the pieces of him he’d lost along the way. With some of his wounds, it’s okay—to have lost them, those pieces of himself no longer recognizable. It means he had to grow stronger around them, to build over them, to start new where they’d left him bare. Others, still, were not okay. Would never _be_ okay.

Many more of those have names than the former, and he knows them offhandedly. Many of them are the names of people he knew, the letters of who they were bright and legible behind his eyelids, so easy to identify.

Sometimes, it’s not so easy.

Sometimes, it’s a wayward blade tossed through a battlefield of thousands, speed too great and timing too precise to do anything more than absorb the blow. As with so many of Naruto’s deepest wounds, the blade pierces through the flesh of someone he loves.

His eyes catch sight of the blade the moment it breaks through her defenses; he hears her scream, and time suddenly slows.

It hits Hinata with such force that it rocks her stance, pushes her out of alignment. He sees her lips part, blood dripping over her chin, the blade of the kunai sunk all the way in to the hilt at her collarbone. She’s jarred for only a moment, just a single blink of time, but they’re in the middle of chaos and even a blink of disorientation is enough to cost her.

Naruto only manages to part his lips around her name before three more kunai slam into her, this time with pinpoint accuracy. There’s more screaming, but her lips are closed and Naruto’s throat _aches_ and everything happens so suddenly, after that, that he hasn’t a mind to wonder about it.

She falls, and Naruto feels his own ribs cracking.

He doesn’t have the time or the energy to wonder why no one had helped her, stepped in to deflect the incoming attack—this is war and everyone has an enemy at hand. Instead, he races to her side, slicing through incredible numbers without hesitation. By the time he crashes to his knees at her side, her Byakugan has receded and she isn’t breathing.

She’s not _dead_ , though, not yet; he can hear a terrible rattling sound coming from her throat, as if her lungs are filled with something thick and sharp. His hands hover over her, afraid, not for the first time, of touching her. He doesn’t want to hurt her.

“Hey, Hinata,” he tries not to sound frantic, tries to retain his calm even with a quivering voice and trembling hands. “Can you hear me? Stay with me, huh? Hinata?”

She doesn’t respond, not even to look at him, not even to breathe. There’s so much blood, he thinks, and his hands won’t stop shaking. His eyes search anxiously around them, seeking aid in any form he can attain, and finding nothing but destruction around him.

“Medic!” He screams, so loud that he has to cough around the way his vocal chords feel shredded. “I need a medic, now!”

The only response he receives is more shouting, more blood, more of the high-pitched screams that come from the slide of metal-on-metal. He hears various jutsu being called out, and the way the earth trembles beneath them. He still hasn’t touched her, doesn’t know what to do about the four blades that have made holes in her chest, or the way her eyes—so bright, usually, so clear—can’t seem to focus on anything at all.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispers, too low for anyone to hear. A body collapses down beside him, and he can’t even bear to see if they’re friend or foe. Something crashes nearby; trees, maybe. Or bodies, flung. He isn’t certain.

He reaches out at last, carefully fingering the entry wound of the nearest kunai. Hinata shivers and doesn’t stop shivering, and the word _shock_ flits through Naruto’s mind.

The sky is too blue for a day like this. It’s too bright, too clear, too spotless and clean. There’s so much red, down here. So much that should be hidden away from the virtue of that light blue.

“Hey,” he says, as something detonates nearby, covering them in a new layer of dust and grit. He ignores it entirely, until he glances back down at her wounds, gaping and spilling, and suddenly remembers infection. Purpose flows through him, a steady unconquerable current, and his voice is laced with promise when he says, “I’m not going to let you die. You hear me?”

Hinata has never been anything but strong, in his eyes—strong enough to overcome the pressure and the criticism of her clan, strong enough to learn how to love herself, strong enough to love _him_. It had taken him longer than he likes to admit to recognize the steel in her, the iron of her morality and the indomitable spirit of her heart. But he got there eventually; just in time to want the strength of her—the whole of her—all to himself.

She’d been the one to teach him the meaning of true strength. He’d had help along the way, of course, with his mentors and his friends, but Hinata’s impact on his life was still a beacon, a guiding light he’d been searching for. He hadn’t known the true meaning of strength before her, not even close.

When he slides his hands behind her nape and knees, she chokes on the agony she no longer has the breath to express. He lifts her through it, gentler with her than he’s ever been with anyone or anything in his life.

He’s never held anything so breakable.

And it’s this, too, that hurts: that the strongest person he knows can be weakened so easily. So carelessly.

“Lean on me,” he breathes, just against her ear, hoping that she can hear him. He tilts her body closer to his, just in case, and turns his attention away from the battlefield. There’s no sign of a medic, beyond those lying still in the dirt, and no sign of anyone capable of turning to offer anything more than their back to the enemy. So he turns his attention towards Konoha, towards the hospital, and he _runs_.

Later, the survivors that had seen them will say that Hinata had gone down as silently as a wraith, and that when Naruto lifted her into his arms and headed for Konoha, all he’d been was a blur.

A flash.

 

✧

 

“You need treatment,” Sakura insists, frowning down at him. He doesn’t move, barely blinks, refuses to budge. Hinata is alive, and he’d thought that that would be the only thing that mattered to him, but.

But she’d been worse off than he’d ever even known, and she was still fighting her way back to life. He’d been lucky to find Sakura resupplying at the hospital, intending to return immediately to the battle she’d only just left. Maybe it’d been his pleas that had stopped her in her tracks. Maybe it’d been the sight of Hinata, her friend and Naruto’s fiancé, dying in his arms.

Regardless, if she had not been there at just that time, Naruto isn’t sure if Hinata would have made it through.

“Thank you,” he whispers, voice like burnt gravel. She frowns even more, lifting a hand almost tentatively to his shoulder. There are burns across his back and sliding up the thick column of his neck, and more that run deeper still down his torso. They’d done something to his arm, wrapped it up in bandages and locked it into a sling. He has to sit with more pressure on his left leg because there’s something off about his right one, something that feels definitively like a break he’s unwilling to bring attention to. He heals on his own, quicker than anyone he knows.

And he is not going to leave Hinata’s side.

There’d been no way for him to help her out in the battlefield; all he could do was call for medics that hadn’t been there. Every bit of information Sakura had tried to drill into him over the years, and the sight of Hinata bleeding out in front of him erased it all.

“You did all you could,” Sakura says, low and conciliatory. “You did the right thing, Naruto.”

Sakura’s hand is a heavy weight on his shoulder, despite the tenderness of her touch. He doesn’t look away from Hinata, and Sakura sighs. He waits for the snick of the door closing behind her before he allows himself to blink. He resents the action, ridiculous as that is.

It’s all the time that some shinobi on the warfront had needed to nearly remove the light of Hinata’s presence from this Earth, and it’s something Naruto is having trouble forgiving. He watches her chest fall, an even rhythm, now that machines are breathing for her. Temporary, Sakura had told him.

He can’t bring himself to move, and it’s not the pain and aches of his body or the murkiness of his exhausted mind—when was the last time he’d been able to sleep? He’d been on the frontlines for months now, at the most frequently attacked posts, leading his own segment of Konoha’s army. He can’t remember a single night of uninterrupted sleep.

Even still, he doesn’t think sleep would even register to him, now. He watches Hinata breathe, and it’s the most important work he’s done in years; he makes sure that she’s alive, that she’s still here, with him, and it’s right. He couldn’t protect her out there on the battlefield, after her defenses had been breached, and he couldn’t protect her once he had her in his arms. All he could do was bring her to those who _could_ help, and make sure that their work holds true.

The sounds of war rattle the edges of his awareness, and he selfishly pushes them away.

He knows without a doubt in his mind that if their positions had been switched, that she would return to the battlefield. There’s something powerful in her, a compassion that runs ever deep in her character. She would return to offer whatever aid she could, and then later, when it’s the right time and she’s done what she could for her shift on the warfront, she’s be the first person he’d open his eyes to; the first to lean down and kiss his forehead, whispering something soft and sure against his skin.

He moves, at last, with this in mind. Every part of him aches and he very nearly tumbles to the ground when his bad leg refuses to take pressure at all, and his good leg starts to follow suit. He manages to get his hip against her hospital bed, and allows himself to settle in beside her. He carefully avoids the cords and the machines, the plugs and the IV. He curls around her, presses his lips to her forehead, and whispers three distinct sentiments, all wrapped up in the same blend of relief.

“You did well. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

And he makes the last a promise.

This is what he can do for her, for now.

And when he heals enough to stand evenly on his feet, he will do what he must, and return to the war outside their window. He’ll do what he _must_ , because that’s what he does, what he’s always done.

And in the end, he will return.

To her. For her.

This is what he can do.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Naruto is the lead singer of this pop punk/punk rock new band called KT7 (Konoha's Team 7) and he meets Hinata in their first show ever, who's in the front row of the audience and he keeps looking at her the whole night. Two years later, KT7 became this prize-winning, worldwide known band, and he still thinks about her now and then and he does look for her in the audience at times, but he doesn't really think he'll find her again after all this time—until he does.  
> Rating: _Teen and Up Audiences._

When he was young, his mother told him his voice would reach past the ends of the earth.

He’d always had a set of lungs on him, and a voice that was pitched higher than any of the other kids in his classes, but his volume was only the start. It didn’t take him long to figure out that music moved through him in waves that he could feel in his bones—that every note was a guiding hand leading him towards a future he couldn’t even imagine.

He started with humming songs to himself, until the vibrations running over his skin weren’t enough. Words bubbled out of him, spilling under his breath as he walked through the hallways towards his classes, but it was never enough. There was always a thrumming behind his ribs, coupled with the pulsing of his heart, that beat loud and strong—it begged to be let out.

The first time he sang for a crowd, he came alive.

He chased the feeling all over the state, first, and then the country. It wasn’t long before he was traveling the world, singing for _thousands_ , that he realized his mother had been right all along.

“Are you gonna be ready any time this year?”

Naruto glances over his shoulder, eyeing the frightening tilt of Sakura’s eyebrows. Something about her petulant frown and critical gaze speaks of impatience and amusement, and Naruto dances the line between them.

“Sure thing,” he says, lifting himself from his seat and heading towards her place in the doorway. His heart is already racing, even before the show has even begun, and he feels adrenaline kicking through his system. When he glances up, his eyes catch on the gleam of sunshine trailing through the room, lighting the pink of Sakura’s hair aflame. It stops him in his tracks, a sudden reminder of something he’s forgotten. He ignores the way the impatient tilt of her brows makes room for curiosity as he skids to a stop right in front of her, and curses under his breath before turning back into the room.

His eyes trace over the desktop and land on a single cord of silver, threaded through a marble replica of the galaxy. He runs the chain through his fingertips just once before lifting it over his head, feeling the familiar coolness of the metal against his nape and the resulting shiver that trails down his spine. He thumbs the marble for a moment, ignoring the way he can practically feel Sakura’s stare burning through him, before tucking it away under his shirt.

_It’s just a necklace._ That’s what he always tells his friends, when they ask, but the dreamy look he knows crosses his features whenever it comes up in conversation is the most blatant contradiction to his words, rendering them pointless. He knows the swirls of color, each incandescent and ethereal, as easily as he knows every word to every one of his songs.

And even more beautiful, he thinks, ignoring Sakura’s inquisitive eyebrow as they head for the stage, is that he remembers with perfect clarity the face of the girl who gave it to him.

It’s never been _just_ a necklace; it’s a memory and promise all wrapped up in glass, dense and contained but so easy to shatter.

He doesn’t know her, the mysterious girl with eyes dripping starlight, who gifted him a single marble of the unknown universe upon meeting him, but he thinks he’d like to.

He thinks he’d really, really like to.

The first time he saw her, he was singing to a crowd of stars amidst a sea of darkness. It had been KT7′s first official gig together, and everywhere he looked there’d been flickers of fire and light, flashlights on phones, flames above lighters, and a blanket of blinking stars overhead. The stadium lights had fought for dominance, casting the thriving crowd into molten shadows intermittently visible, and failed.

The stars seemed resolute, that night.

He remembers the euphoria of standing beneath them, amidst them, and the power of his lungs as he sang sentiments his own hands had written. The sheer power of Sakura’s drums behind him, and the electric pulse of Sasuke’s strings coursing through him, and he felt a king on his throne—rules didn’t apply, when he was on stage. He could thrash and scream and cry, he could leap off of a speaker, arms spread eagle-wide, and feel the drop in his stomach even before his body fell through the air. He trusted those closest to him, though. Trust had always come easy.

The familiar feeling of hands holding him up, passing him over a sea of people screaming the words, _his words,_ and pushing him right back up to where he belongs, felt like coming home.

The stage: his throne, his kingdom.

Her eyes, her brightest and most catching feature, found him even in the dark of the stadium. They shone brighter than anything else, and somehow, she overcame the shadows. Even the moon had paled in comparison to her brilliance, and he had been spellbound the moment his eyes landed on her.

She was a couple steps away from the front, and she moved along to his music without hesitation—he watched how it moved her, literally moved her, and his heart became a bomb ticking down from a number he couldn’t decipher.

He spent the rest of the night caught between trying to defuse his own mixed feelings about that girl, and pretending that his eyes hadn’t repeatedly sought her out. He thought seriously about calling to her, unashamedly getting her attention and curling his finger until she was close enough for him to touch, to touch, to _touch_.

Before he could do anything so ridiculous and tempting, she made the move for him.

It could’ve been so easily overlooked, a single person in a mass of thousands reaching her fist into the air, clutched tight around what could’ve been anything, really. But he’d known the moment he saw the way the shadows of night couldn’t dampen the brightness of her smile that she wasn’t to be overlooked.

Naruto’s eyes caught on her fist and saw the flicker of something gleaming, and it drew him to her like a moth doomed to be consumed by the brightness and heat of her flame.

His voice never trembled or hitched, never wavered or dipped. He leapt from the stage until his feet landed on solid ground, and he moved past security and gestured for her to step towards him, his eyes never leaving her. A break in the music, a guitar solo that allowed for him to catch his breath, and then she was right there in front of him, reaching out with a shy smile.

It happened so fast, after that.

He opened his hand to her and felt the gentle weight of something insubstantial, and his lips parted around an endless wave of questions— _who are you, what’s your name, can I see you again, will you be here when this is all over?_

She turned and the crowd swallowed her hole, a creature bloated and thirsting and ravenous, and he lost her in its teeth.

He doesn’t remember getting back on stage, or slipping the necklace over his head in front of a curious crowd of thousands, or even singing one final song. All he knows is that even hours later, when he’d exhausted himself at an after party and fallen into a friend’s spare bed, his mind ran circles around that girl, and the strange gift she’d given him.

A marble universe with the barest hint of a silver chain threaded through the center of it, just long enough to settle beside his heart.

His heart beats out every question he never asked her, that night.

And he wears the necklace every day for two years before he sees her again.

 

✧

 

Two years is a long time.

It takes him several months for him to stop thinking about the girl with the starlight eyes, and the gentle smile. It takes several more for him to stop seeking her out in every crowd KT7 plays for. He does not forget her, though.

How could he, with her universe around his neck, hanging over his heart?

Naruto has had a lot of time to think about how he would approach her, should he find her again. Yet, even still, the words that usually come so easily to him in the form of his feelings, specifically crafted for songs, don’t come to him in this time of sudden need. He can’t pin down a single sentence that sounds right for her, that would let her know how much of an impact she’d had on him. Naruto is not one for giving up, but he knows redundant patterns when he falls into them, so he stops trying to find the words, and starts hoping to find circumstance.

It comes much later than he ever would’ve imagined, and as such, he is utterly unprepared.

KT7 sells out again, playing for an arena of thousands with not an empty seat in the house, and Naruto finds himself at another celebratory after party. It’s held in the hotel he’s staying in, on the first floor, and he enjoys the music the dj’s spinning almost as much as he enjoys the way that his manager, Sai, is fast losing a bet to see who could out-drink who, between he and Sakura. Sai is still holding his clipboard, for heaven’s sake, and Sakura isn’t even wavering. It was a poor bet to take, Naruto thinks cheerily, moving through the crowds.

There’s nothing about the party that’s wrong, per say, but something about it has Naruto excusing himself earlier than usual. He gets out with a few autographs and a couple pauses for inquiring conversations with fans, before he’s heading towards the elevator with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He leans against the wall, already thinking about stripping down to his boxers and putting on a movie in his room when the elevator doors clang open, and the girl whose universe hangs around his throat is right in front of his eyes.

He watches her eyes widen, her shoulders tense, and her mouth wrap silently around his name. Just like that, and he can feel his stomach in his feet, his mouth going dry. He licks his lips and his heart goes into overtime, and it takes the automatic closing of the elevator doors to knock him back into reality. He lunges forward just as she reaches out and their hands are only a breath away from each other before they both pull back, the doors clanking wide open once again.

Naruto steps into the tiny space and can do nothing more than stare at her, his heart in his throat, his eyes tracing every feature as if to store the sight of her in his memory for good. The realization that follows, that he might only ever get to see her in his memories yet _again_ , is enough to finally spur him into motion.

He wishes desperately that he’d found those words he’d wanted for her, so long ago.

“Hi,” he breathes intstead, shaking his head a bit as a smile brushes across his lips. “Hey.”

He watches the pigment in her cheeks flare ashen rose, and her smile lift to brighten her entire expression into something he wants more than to simply know, but to _feel_.

“Hi,” she whispers, and she sounds so shy—this image of her, now, in stark contrast to the unabashed, uninhibited dancer that raised her universe above her head and placed it in the palm of his hands. He finds neither of them more interesting than the other, equally entranced by the enigmatic nature of her, enough so that he finds himself unconsciously leaning towards her, as if he could soak up the mystery of every facet of her. He wonders if, by sheer proximity, he will appear as luminescent as she does without even trying—or perhaps, he thinks, it might be enough to simply reflect the brightness of her spirit.

“I’m Naruto,” he says, and somehow the introduction feels silly. Her smile grows until creases appear beside her eyes, remnants of frequent joy, and Naruto feels the incredible sensation of falling without having even moved.

“Hinata,” she responds. “Nice to meet you.”

“Finally,” he blurts, and doesn’t even have the grace to blush or look chagrined with his lack of filter. He merely watches her, endlessly intrigued, eyes wide and perceptive. She doesn’t seem to mind his brash behavior, though; she laughs.

“Finally,” she agrees, a swathe of that confident girl in the mass of KT7’s fans, and then not a moment later a wisp of shy admission. “I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

“I did,” Naruto immediately says, grin quick and hot as wildfire. “I _do_.”

It makes sense, then, to reach up to the chain lying flat against his chest. He trails his fingertips over it, watching her watch him, and pulls until the marble of the universe she had shared with him—their  _shared_ universe—dangles freely between them. He hears her gasp, a surprised inhale, and it charms him into speaking in a hushed, insistent whisper.

“I’ve been wearing it every day,” he says in a rush, as brazen as always. “I wondered if I’d see you again.”

Hinata glances from the marble in his fingertips, an amalgamation of gleaming colors and swathes of transparent blips, like newborn stars just getting their luminous teeth, before looking up into his eyes with the same level of awe.

“You kept it,” she breathes, and her smile is every core to every star in the known universe, hot enough to sear right through him, wrapped ever tight in heat and promise. Naruto’s heart aches, his next pull of breath shakier than those before, and _oh_ , he thinks he loves her.

The elevator pings, startling both of them enough to see that they’re on Naruto’s floor. The doors open and he thinks, _too soon, too soon_ , and he doesn’t take a single step. There’s a knowing edge to the pale wonder of Hinata’s eyes, as she glances over at him, looking through her eyelashes. It’s this look, conspiratorial and charmed, that has him saying, “Come with me real quick? I got you something.”

He sees the flicker of hesitation, and realizes that even though he feels like he knows her already, feels like they’ve known each other for _years_ , they’re essentially strangers.

That, in reality, they’ve known each other for only moments, and he’s asking her to his room.

“Not in a creepy way!” he blurts, sticking a hand out to prevent the elevator doors from shutting. “I just, you can wait in the hallway if you want. I can run and get it.”

“Okay,” she agrees, after a moment of contemplation. She moves and it’s a reminder of the graceful fluidity of her, the way she seems to glide over the floor. He leads her towards his room, and his nerves sharpen and suddenly present themselves. He rubs at his nape, hand a little shaky, and slides his keycard into his door. When he has it wedged open, he turns back to her and smiles, saying, “Okay, I’ll be back in like, five seconds. Tops.”

The door shuts on her laughter, and he races to his suitcase and finds the gift in an instant, seeing as it’s always in the same exact spot, just in case he’d ever run into her again.

He races back to the door and peels it open, beaming when he finds her still standing there, leaning against the wall with a raised brow.

“More than five seconds,” she says, looking smug. He snorts, surprised at her playfulness.

“Sorry I’m late,” he jokes, and comes to stand before her. He extends his gift to her with far less ceremony than she had, mostly because he’s too excited to finally be having this moment, this chance, and he really just wants the gift to finally be _in her hands._

He drops it into her open, waiting palm, and watches the change move over her face as she realizes that she now has _his_ universe in _her_ hand.

“I hope you like it,” he rambles, nerves pulling tight. “I hope the shape is okay, it’s actually kind of embarrassing why I chose it, but—”

“I love it,” she interrupts, voice trembling. “A sun. Thank you.”

“No big deal,” he says, even as he feels as though for the first time since meeting her in that elevator he can finally breathe easy.

“How did you—”

“Make it?” he guesses, glancing self-consciously down the hall. There’s no one around, just the two of them, and he’s grateful for it. “I tracked down the original maker of this, of yours,”

“ _Yours_ ,” she corrects softly, her expression just this side of bashful.

“Mine,” he agrees, and his smile lifts and grows until his eyes are nearly closed. “I had it special made. It only made sense to share my universe with yours.”

Hinata lifts the sun-shaped marble, spun similarly to hers, but with distinct intricacies that Naruto recognizes to be his own, and slips the chain over her head. The universe, tied within the sun, rests beautifully against her fair skin, and the rosy flush that rises to greet it.

“I’m happy,” she admits, “I never imagined being here, with you.”

“I did,” Naruto asserts, and he steps closer to her, cautious yet insistent. She doesn’t flinch or waver; instead, she leans towards him, tilting her head ever so slightly. They’re so close, close enough to kiss, and he wants to kiss her more than he’s ever wanted anything else in the world—except that that’s not entirely true, not now, not when the words are finally here, on the tip of his tongue, needing to be said.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” he admits, and this is what he wants and needs more than anything else; he remembers the way the crowd had engulfed her, and how easily she’d stepped out of his life. Then, in a tone ridden in wonder, “I feel like I know you already.”

“You don’t,” she says softly, “But if you want to, I’d like that.”

Naruto laughs, and he watches the way her features soften into a muted kind of joy, one that reaches deep and spreads wide, in just the way his voice had. “Hell yeah, I do.”

“Okay,” she says, and it’s so simple.

She reaches out and slides her fingers through his, and he can tell that she’s shaking, but he’s shaking too, and when she pulls him closer to her until their foreheads are touching, he hears the soft clang of their universes colliding.

He feels the soft beginnings of his heart tracing the lines of a new rhythm, and he knows without having to wonder that it’s a rhythm hers has been singing to all along.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Halloween (Version 1).  
> Rating: _Teen and Up Audiences._

Contrary to popular belief, Hyuuga Hinata is not afraid of many things.

Hinata is an understanding person; she gets why people have fears and phobias, and why such things might drive them to scream, or cry, or flee. She understands that even though in _her_ mind, bugs, monsters, and fictional killers all have weaknesses and can all be controlled, should one apply the right strategies, that people can still find them scary despite that. She understands this especially in cases involving allergies, or memories, or childhood traumas.

She recognizes the psychology behind it all; but seeing it right in front of her eyes, in people of her young adult age and even above, is a novel experience in and of itself.

It’s easy to guess some peoples’ fears, like Ino and commitment, or Kakashi and an Icha Icha hiatus, or Choji and depleted food stores. Others, like Tenten, Neji, and Kiba, remain a bit of a mystery even still.

She found Shikamaru’s fear to be among the most baffling when discovered—how can someone who uses shadows as a predominant attack force be afraid of the _dark_? Hinata surmises that there’s a difference between shadows and _shadows_ ; that a shadow-user without the aiding presence of light would have no love for total darkness.

It doesn’t take her long to figure out most of their fears by simple observation, and to understand them without much background history provided, either. She makes her way through her generation and their team leaders, gets to the Hokage, and realizes that the only person whose strongest fear she can’t quite pin down is Uzumaki Naruto’s.

This is not to say that he’s fearless; quite the opposite, as Hinata soon realizes when the Rookie Nine all gather for a haunted festival and Hinata hears Naruto whimper several times before they’re even in the entrance gate.

She watches him carefully as the night fills with screams, and shrieks, and pleas. The sky overhead is as unforgiving as the festival’s mood, with barely a star in sight through a haze of turbulent clouds and a faded pitch-black sky. Smoke curls through the air, a presence largely unseen but unmistakable to her senses. People scurry around her, some moving cautiously in, some fleeing carelessly out.

She and her group move guardedly forward, approaching the blood red drapes framing the entrance to what appears to be a haunted maze. Many of the Rookies are clutching each others’ arms, walking in threes or fives, while Kiba and Hinata stick towards the back of the group and cast curious, watchful glances around at their surroundings. Naruto is a step in front of her and off to the side, just close enough for her to notice whenever he blanches, or holds his breath, or squeezes his own sides to keep his nerves relatively settled.

“Naruto-kun,” Hinata finally calls, as softly as possible so as to not startle him. Her efforts are futile, however, as Naruto’s nerves are apparently more keyed up than she’d originally thought. He turns to her with hiraishin speed, eyes wide and teeth grinding down to keep him from screaming. She casts a sympathetic look his way even as Kiba mutters something derisive under his breath and moves up beside a wraith-like Shino, whose hands are inconspicuously wringing.

“Wanna walk with me?” She asks, tilting her head when he shuffles over to her before the words are even completely out of her mouth. He smiles gratefully, and she can see sweat on his brow. She tries to place this image of Naruto, nearly shaking, next to the one she has of him standing in a long line of the strongest shinobi alive, smiling guilelessly, and struggles with it. The disparity between the two is amusing enough to make her laugh, though she has enough tact to turn her head away before doing so. She doesn’t need to add embarrassment to his already frazzled nerves.

“Thanks,” he breathes, and tucks his arm through hers without a word of warning. “This place is _so_ not cool.”

“It’s definitely easier to go through with a buddy system in place,” Hinata promises him, even while her cheeks flare with heat. He’d probably prefer to be in the middle of Ino’s group, a jumbled pack of five that stand so close together they’re almost a solid wall. Yet, when she glances over at Naruto again, he looks far more relaxed in her grip, and doesn’t even flinch when she clutches his sleeve with her free hand. His eyes are still shifty, though, so she makes sure to pull him in close when they step through the drapes.

Their plan, as the Rookies had hashed out before stepping foot onto the festival’s grounds, was to stick together no matter the cost.

So of course the moment they step through the drapes into utter darkness, Naruto and Hinata find themselves taking the path less trodden, so to speak. That being, their groups seem to split in three, and Naruto and Hinata find themselves alone in a maze with monsters of all shapes, sizes, and varieties around every corner. Naruto is palpably nervous, so much so that she starts to worry that he might unconsciously Rasengan someone working the maze.

She tries to pull him in closer to her, especially around the corners, but it’s like the workers can smell his fear. They hone in on him and attack unflinchingly, even when he starts shouting threats that Hinata is fairly certain they know he can back up.

Their steps take them deeper and deeper into the maze, curling around endless paths both steep and unbalanced and nothing less than treacherous; past walls and walls of nothing but shadows. There’s the fairest hint of light every now and again, but it’s usually cast against a mirror or three, and reflected as such in ways that only seem to make direction impossible. Naruto clutches her arm tight enough for her fingertips to tingle with loss of sensation, but she doesn’t much mind, because she’s tucked against his side and he seems to want her there.

He seems to want her even _closer_.

She tries not to get ahead of herself.

She reminds herself around every corner, in every pause where a creature of the night pops out and scares Naruto nearly to tears, that he’d latch on to anyone in her position, just as tightly, and just as insistently. She’s not special; she’s just lucky to have become that person for tonight.

At least, that’s what she tells herself.

There’s no sign—or sound, since it’s too dark to see much of anything at all, anyways—of either of their groups. There seems a chorus of nonstop screams laced over the constant thrum of fog machine generators and the flapping of material in the wind, but none of them recognizable.

Hinata doesn’t even pause over the realization that she knows the pitch of every one of her friends’ screams well enough to recognize in a crowd of them. The thought comes, and goes, as quick as a breeze; it doesn’t stand a chance to her focus on Naruto and his clenched fists.

For a moment, he seems to have regained a semblance of chill, but he loses it completely when an especially detailed Oni slides across their path on something that makes sparks fly into the air. This seems to be the last straw for Naruto, as he pulls her into his arms and shuffles them hastily into a shadowed corner with a few curses bitten off.

As Naruto tucks his face against her neck and focuses on his breathing, Hinata tries to remember how to breathe at all. She wraps her arms around him, pulls him in close, and rubs consolingly at his back. His hands clutch at her jacket, his head ducked low, and she can feel his lips brush up against her throat.

A few stragglers pass them by, barely even noticing them tucked away in their corner, even when that same Oni slides by again and lights their corner up with in a flash of light. Naruto doesn’t react at all, except to relax a little against her hold. She whispers in his ear, nearly cooing, trying everything she knows to soothe his nerves.

She doesn’t know how long they stand huddled together, or how many people pass them by, or if that Oni is sliding by them on _purpose_ , before she feels Naruto’s lips on her throat again. She thinks he’s finally got his breathing under control, and might be close to working his way back to standing.

Instead, his lips press against her skin a little more intently, first just once, then again, and her heart stutters in her chest like the brief lapse before an explosion.

Her lips part around his name, maybe a question, maybe encouragement, when his tongue trails over her skin and his lips press down and begin to _suck_.

This, Hinata thinks instantly, is something she fears. She has no idea what to do with her hands, or if she should acknowledge this gesture at all—that Naruto has gone from near-breakdown comfort cuddles to intently sucking a hickey on her neck in _moments_.

A simple gasp escapes her lips when his hands move from her back to her hips, and his teeth graze lightly over her raised skin. He peppers a few kisses there even as someone screams bloody murder a few panels away from them, causing Hinata to jump. Her senses are sparking, too scattered to land on any one thing for too long, but she thinks she feels him smile against her skin.

When she feels his lips move down to her collarbone, just slightly revealed under her jacket, she wonders dizzily if this is some sort of coping mechanism she never knew he had. She goes so far as to ask him this exact question, ignoring the flash in her peripheral vision and the snarling of the Oni, who seems a constant fixture in this situation. She knows, she just _knows_ that when she looks back on this memory with some level of confused happiness, that that damned Oni will be in it, too.

“Possibly,” Naruto laughs; he _laughs_ , sounding as carefree as can be. “I hadn’t known before now, but this could be a kind of coping mechanism in the future.”

Hinata isn’t going to touch the possibilities of that statement with a ten-foot pole. Instead, she asks, “What is it, then?”

“Probably the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.”

Before she can even ask him what _that_ means, he pulls back and she can see the gleam of his bright eyes, and in the flare of the Oni’s sliding sparks, the curl of a fond smile. Her cheeks are on fire, the heat spreading down her throat and throbbing in the hickey he undoubtedly left behind. Her heart races happily in her chest, heavy enough to incite her to lean forward, towards him, her hands coming to rest on his chest.

“Hey,” he whispers, and she can barely hear him over the sounds of pseudo-murder just a stone’s throw away. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” she says, before her brain has even caught up. Then again, with the same level of certainty. “ _Yes_.”

When Naruto’s lips meet hers, her eyes slide shut and flashes of light and color flare over her eyelids.

She isn’t certain, it might’ve just been that damned Oni and his repetitive sliding act, throwing sparks, but there’s a possibility, however slight, that when their lips met, she actually saw stars.

 

✧

 

“Were you really afraid?” Hinata asks later, when she and Naruto have made it out of the maze and back to their group, safe and sound; with only a few extra kiss marks on both of them to show for their time there. Naruto turns to her with eyes wide, expression incredulous.

“Oh, don’t make me _admit it_.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” she promises, grinning.

Naruto grumbles, kicking at a stone underfoot. She squeezes his fingers a little, still struck with wonder that they’re holding hands at all—that they’d made out in a haunted maze for the better half of the _night_. “I can’t fake bein’ that scared.”

“I probably wasn’t the best buddy to stifle your fear,” she admits, laughing a little. “I’m not really afraid of these things, you know.”

“Oh,” Naruto laughs, shaking his head. He ignores the glares Kiba keeps shooting his way in the same way he’s being ignoring how Shino has pointedly lowered his shades down his nose to give their hands a keen, slightly hostile focus for the latter half of the night. “You were the _best_ buddy. Believe it!”

Hinata flushes just about every shade of red she’s got in her arsenal, and knocks her hips lightly against his in embarrassment.

“Naruto-kun!”

“Well it’s true!” he sings blithely, swinging their arms. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment to kiss you for _forever_.”

Ino, from out of nowhere, appears at Naruto’s elbow with a huff. Sakura is suddenly on Hinata’s other side, looking far too smug for her own good.

The rest of their group seemed to have made it out of the maze relatively unscathed, though they explained to Hinata in hushed tones that Kiba had to hold Shino’s hand all the way through, and also for about an hour afterwards. Choji brought snacks, so his fears for the night aren’t too bad, and Shikamaru snuck a pocket flashlight into the festival, ‘just in case.’ Everyone else seems to just be having fun being afraid, with nothing much getting in the way of that simple plan.

“And you thought,” Ino begins, raising her voice to be heard over the startling, moaning music playing in the stall on their left, “that your first kiss with Hinata should be in a _haunted maze_?”

“Awful choice,” Sakura laments, casting Hinata a sympathetic look. Hinata merely laughs.

“No way, it was awesome!” Naruto argues, stubborn as ever. “She was totally taking care of me in there, rubbing my back and whispering sweet nothings in my ear and _everything_.”

This, it seems, is juicy enough to make Hinata’s two friends pause and cast curious, impressed looks her way. Her entire face feels aflame, and she barely resists the urge to bring her hands up to her cheeks.

“They weren’t _sweet nothings_ ,” she protests, utterly embarrassed.

Naruto snorts, not helping in the slightest. “They were kinda sweet nothings, Hinata.”

“Oh my God,” Sakura laughs, “they sound like a married couple already.”

“They _do_ ,” Ino remarks, as a small child runs screaming past them, followed closely by what appears to be her parents, bone-weary with exhaustion. “This is adorable. I take it back, maybe the haunted maze _was_ a sweet move.”

“Too bad no one witnessed the kiss, though.” Sakura groans, shaking her head. “We’ve all been waiting forever.”

Hinata’s eyes widen, even as Naruto grumbles, “Oh there was a witness alright. Shitty Oni voyeur.”

“Oni?” Ino begins, before bursting into laughter. “Someone working the maze?”

“I _don’t_ ,” Naruto begins pointedly, “want to talk about them.”

He shivers, as if the mere memory of the Oni is enough to rekindle all of his earlier fear, and pulls Hinata closer in response. He doesn’t seem to mind when Ino and Sakura laugh at him, or call him ridiculous. He barely even reacts when Ino calls him a baby, and says he’ll need to be coddled every time this festival rolls around. Rather than argue with that, he seems to wholeheartedly agree.

“Can’t wait for next year,” he smirks, and turns his dazzling, mischievous eyes directly on Hinata. “Right, Hinata?”

Hinata swallows, and finds herself ignoring the sound of her friends’ laughter, too. It’s easy to ignore, especially with the moans and groans of monsters all around her. The moon makes an appearance for the first time since their night has started, carving a way through the cloud cover and sliding over them with icy resolution. Hinata shivers, steps closer to Naruto, and feels immediately warmed when he pulls her completely against his chest.

She nods once into the material of his jacket, turning her beaming smile to the rest of the on-looking Rookies, baited with curiosity, and simply says, “Right.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Halloween (Version 2).  
> Rating: _General Audiences._

“Don’t run, okay? Your costume is a little lopsided.”

“But _mom_ ,” Boruto protests, with all of the dramatics a nine-year-old can muster, which is quite impressive, actually.

“Mine’s lopsided too!” Himawari chirps happily, shifting around in arcs to showcase every lopsided seam of her tiny moon costume. Hinata’s cheeks flare with heat, but she smiles when she sees how happy Himawari is with the homemade costume.

“That it is,” she admits, and promises herself that next year, she’s going to have improved enough to have not made lopsided costumes for her family. _Believe it_.

“We’re gonna be late,” Boruto whines, trying to cross his arms over his chest and only making it as far as his little round sun costume will allow. Hinata looks at them fondly, her two little babies, and thinks; _I have asymmetrical orbs for children._ Next year she’s definitely going to improve.

She hums, turning to look at the clock just as a loud bang comes from the front door. She doesn’t turn with aggression, though she is armed, because she’d know that chakra signature anywhere.

Sure enough, a moment later he groans.

“Hinata,” he whines, sounding awfully similar to his own nine-year-old son just moments prior. “We need a bigger front door.”

Hinata sighs, ushering their kids into the kitchen to get their candy bags. Once they are completely ready for the cold night of trick-or-treating ahead of them, and she has triple-checked their face paint, she ushers them towards the front door where her husband and Hokage is undoubtedly standing.

He turns to them when the door opens, his expression shifting from nonplussed to overjoyed in a second. Hinata can’t help but laugh, out loud, at his costume; she still can’t believe that he’d wanted to wear it at all.

If her children are little orbs, he is a massive orb, edged in spikes.

The big sun.

“Dad!” Himawari gasps, upon seeing his costume for the first time. As the little moon to Hinata’s big moon, she had found the symmetry of Boruto being the little sun to Naruto’s big sun quite fitting. Boruto’s eyes light right up, and it seems he’s completely forgotten about his self-appointed tee-off time for trick-or-treating.

Naruto throws his hands out to the sides and says, “Eh? Ehhh?”

“You look awesome!” Boruto crows, while Himawari leaps forward and tries to land in his arms. She’s so used to the gesture, Hinata thinks they really can’t blame her for having forgotten about their sphere situation. The costumes are solid.

She barrels into Naruto and the big sun and the little moon tumble backwards down the porch, until Naruto is like a turtle on his shell, flailing and trying to get back to his feet. Boruto is immediately down there making sure Himawari is okay (she is), and then trying to help his father back onto his feet. Hinata, for her part, laughs so hard she cries.

When she’s gotten herself together and an elderly couple have walked by to see their Hokage scrambling on his back in a giant shoddy sun costume, she thinks it’s about time for her to help him back onto his feet. It won’t be the first time, and it won’t be the last, either.

She has to dust the snow powder off of his orb-rear, but otherwise he’s relatively unscathed. Boruto is already pulling on his arm, back to his schedule. He points at the night sky overhead and says, “Let’s _go_ , dad.”

“Wait, wait,” Naruto complains, barely budging. He turns back to Hinata with a petulant pout. “Where’s _my_ candy bag?”

Hinata casts him a _look_ , but sighs in defeat a moment later. She heads back into the house and grabs the candy bag she’d known he’d ask for, and hands it over. He lets his fingertips slide along hers as he grabs the bag, and when he says, “Kids, look at that _moon_ ,” she knows he’s sneakily talking about her, while distracting their kids to look at the actual moon. Like clockwork, Himawari and Boruto both look immediately up into the sky at that ever bright moon, and Naruto bobs forward as best as he can in his giant orb costume and kisses her.

She has to bow around his spherical body, and lift on the tips of her toes to manage, but by the time the kids turn back to them, she has been thoroughly kissed. Her cheeks heat and she knows they’re a stark contrast to the icy fairness of her skin in this cold air, but they’re too focused on candy and showing off their costumes to really notice.

“Be safe,” she whispers, first to Naruto, and then louder to their children. “Please.”

“Of course!” Naruto chirps, trying to moonwalk away from her and back to their kids only to land back on his rear in the snow again. Hinata helps him up right away this time, laughing and shaking her head.

“You’re the _sun_ , Naruto-kun,” she laughs. “Leave the moon-walking to the moons.”

“Yeah,” Naruto says, voice abruptly low, expression abruptly fond. He reaches out and trails his fingertips over her cheek, his smile lighting up every corner of his face. “I’ll leave it to you.”

After a moment of unabashedly looking on at him, openly adoring, Hinata finally just snorts. She moonwalks away from him until her heels hit the porch, and she lifts a hand to wave at her beautiful family. A moment before they start walking off, however, she realizes she’s forgotten something and demands they stay. She hurries in to the house and knocks over a lamp with her own orb-orbit, but doesn’t mind much. Luck was on her side tonight, because that had _not_ been the lamp her father gifted her for her fourteenth birthday. If it had been, this night truly would’ve reached frightening levels. He loves that lamp.

She raises the camera up and says, “Alright, get together.”

Naruto immediately brightens in front of the camera, but seems to realize he’s too tall for how close they are. So, in a typical strand of Naruto thought process, he just plops onto the ground and bobs uncomfortably on his side, one hand supporting his head. Himawari and Boruto both immediately climb on to his rounded belly and try to balance, and when Hinata finally gets the shot, Naruto has taken a foot to the privates, Himawari stands perfectly balanced on his rounded side, and Boruto is flexing while falling off of him.

“A keeper,” Hinata nods her head, smiling fondly at the image as Naruto groans in the snow. “Okay, time to head off, or you’ll _really_ be late.”

Boruto, reminded of his time limit for candy seeking and costume-flaunting, immediately heaves Naruto back to his feet. He grabs Himawari’s outstretched hand and starts heading for the first house on the street, calling over his shoulder, “By mom! Happy Halloween!”

Himawari’s voice mimics him, a little fainter with distance, and Hinata watches them scurry around the corner and out of sight. Naruto limps after their trail with a wry expression, saying, “You’d think with how tough this material is that it’d protect a man’s jewels.”

“Structural inadequacy,” Hinata agrees, nodding her head and trying so hard not to laugh at him again. He nods blearily, shaking it off a moment later, and grins at her.

“Happy Halloween, Hinata.”

“Happy Halloween, Naruto-kun.” She responds, before noticing a family with a small army of kids approaching them. Hinata knows this means she has to go back inside to pass out candy, and has to remind herself swiftly of where she hid the candy—so that Naruto wouldn’t eat it all—before remembering the secret floor panel. She edges back towards the house, not wanting to let Naruto out of her sight but knowing that she has a Halloween duty, after all.  

Naruto seems to realize this, too, as he starts off towards their rogue little sun and moon, but not before he casts one last smile, just for her, over his shoulder. And then he’s jostling quickly down the street, calling out blearily for his small celestial counterparts. Hinata’s heart warms at the knowledge that she has released a small unit of celestial intent upon Konoha, spearheaded by a giant sun orb limping through the streets and groaning about jewels.

She has the candy out and in her hands by the time the small army of costumed kids are at her door, and she smiles kindly at each of them and their parents in turn. One of the mothers steps forward, eyeing Hinata’s moon orb that barely fits through the front door, and asks, “Was that giant sun…thing…your husband? Is it…Hokage-sama?”

Hinata meets the eyes of each of the women, sees their incredulous expressions, and feels warmed from the inside out.

“Yes,” Hinata smiles, overcome with love. “Yes it is.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina prompt: Pay attention to me!  
> Rating: _General Audiences_.

Uzumaki Naruto had grown used to being ignored when he was a kid. The entire village had been hyperaware of him, of the beast inside of him and what they thought it made him, but still they ignored him. They looked away, turned away, they changed directions when they saw him.

They whispered over his head; words like _beast,_ like _abomination_.

When he was a young man, there wasn’t a single shadow in the village he could hide in; their attention spotlights that followed him everywhere, curiously, gladly, and he didn’t know what to do with them. He hadn’t saved the village singlehandedly, he’d had help, he’d had a _team_ , he’d had so many resources at his disposal—but it was him their eyes suddenly began to follow. They tracked him like targets, locking on unwaveringly. It was equal parts baffling and unsettling; they had never given him time to get used to attention.

He found, later, that he didn’t much mind the attention. It still baffled him, that people would stop him on the street— _him_ —and want to talk with him like he was anything but the pariah they had shunned just years prior. It never became easy, but Naruto had grown accustomed to getting used to things that weren’t easy. He might even go so far as to say that the challenges were more comfortable to him, more familiar.

It’s a few months after the attention settled around him like an uncomfortable but unalterable second skin that he started to feel distracted.

At first, he thought it was just him getting used to the role change. It’s not the easiest of transitions, moving from abomination to savior, and Naruto still had reservations about the terminology of either.

He noticed it most starkly in the mornings, when there were crowds upon crowds of people lining the streets and there was nowhere for him to hide. It started as a subtle hinge in the back of his mind, making him turn this way and that, over shoulder and into alleyways, always seeking. He hadn’t a clue for _what_ until his eyes found purchase and he realized it was a _who_.

When was the last time he’d seen Hyuga Hinata? His gaze found her in crowds, and remained. He barely blinked for fear of losing her, the long fall of her midnight hair and the delicate dip of her waist, hindered only slightly by her favorite jacket.

She didn’t look at him, didn’t see him.

And this time, it was all Naruto noticed.

 

✧

 

It began as a game of sorts, fueled by Naruto’s confused curiosity. He began to look for her whenever he was out on the streets, or racing over rooftops, headed for who knew what and where. He often found her.

She must have known he was there, he couldn’t help but think at times, but still she did not look.

He started to see less of the crowds and the bustling shops, began to hear less of the incessant buzzing of cicadas and the clamor of voices, and instead focused entirely on Hinata. She was a centering convergence, one that enabled him to hone his senses entirely on the curl of her smile, the fine swipe of her eyelashes.

It had all begun as a game, Naruto looking for her and wondering why she (suddenly, newly) never looked back. But then feelings Naruto could barely recognize began to grow and rumble beneath the swelling tides of his energy, bubbling and bounding, and he had to find names for words he could only remember feeling when he was a child.

Longing, and yearning, and missing.

It hadn’t occurred to him until then to realize that her attention was something he would miss—something he _had_ missed.

He didn’t know the exact moment his feelings had changed, or if they had only shifted into something new and suddenly unnamable, but he started to look at Hinata with _more_.

More feeling, more curiosity, more _need_.

_Pay attention to me!_ He thought, as he watched her move seamlessly throughout the crowds, her fingertips grazing shoulders and shoulder blades, gentle and welcoming and everything he’d never realized he needed forever.

There had never been anything in the world that could rival his distaste and intolerance for hatred, for war. But this, he thought (near-frantically), this abrupt and almost purposeful lack of attention from someone he had grown comfortable under the gaze of (a willing specimen pinned and held), had begun a war in him he hadn’t realized he waged.

He looked and he looked and he looked, at her.

And she did not look back.

And that, he realized—

(an epiphany)

— _was_ intolerable.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt (Naruto POV): You are beautiful, but you are not Her.  
> Rating: _General Audiences._

Popularity is a fickle, curious thing.

That a village could demonize a child, avoid and loathe him, transform him into an untouchable undesirable, and then years later hoist that same child onto their shoulders, call out his name, and greet him like kin.

Uzumaki Naruto doesn’t really think about it too often, though. He prefers to stay focused on the task at hand—rebuilding a broken village, securing their fractured borders, and making sure that he’s in the right place at the right time. This is an especially trying task, considering his teacher, now the Hokage, and his infamous track record with timeliness.

Or lack thereof.

Regardless, Naruto truly does try to be where he needs to be, when he needs to be. He’s become something of an expectation around Konoha; someone who cannot and will not fail—not the village, not the people, and not ever.

It’s a heavy burden to bear. He wonders how Sasuke had done it when he was just a child, too young to really understand how to maneuver out from under that pressure. But then, Naruto thinks, Sasuke had always been sort of incredible, in his own way.

For instance, the way he handled his popularity.

Naruto has had to find new, lesser-used routes through Konoha just to make sure that he’s on time to his appointments and duties, simply because of the amount of people on the street that stop him. He’s not sure what they expect from him, or what they even want from him, and that’s a little bit terrifying in and of itself. He’s not one to back down from a challenge, no matter how terrifying or indomitable, but sometimes he needs to _breathe_.

Sometimes it’s not a challenge, but survival.

He doesn’t mind the attention. It’s stifling, at times, and always baffling. It took him a solid year to realize that people calling to him on the streets weren’t doing so to scold him or shame him, but to welcome him. To greet him, kindly, without warrant. He remembers looking over his shoulder, wondering if maybe Sakura was behind him—she is infamous in name and power and charm, and the people adore her.

But it hadn’t been Sakura, at least not usually. It’d been him.

Just him.

Naruto likes people. He genuinely likes them. He’s not good at holding grudges, they take far too long and involve far too much _thinking_. He’d rather just forgive and forget and move forward, forging new paths to peace and freedom and friendship. So now, when people call to him on the streets, he stops for them. He listens. He shakes the first few times, and then for several more after that, unused to attention from Konoha strangers that isn’t violent or repulsed.

They’re kind, though. They seek his well-being, wondering over his health and his life, asking about his nutrition and his sleeping habits, his training and his ideas on grips and scrolls and ramen. They’re _interested_ , and it bewilders him.

Most startling of all is the attention that he receives from those interested in him in a new way, a different way.

Romance is not something he has experience with, beyond accidentally kissing Sasuke on their first day of Academy. By the time he returns home from war, he loses count of how many times he gets asked on dates. It seems that almost every day as he’s heading through the village, either aimlessly or with intent, someone pulls him aside and asks if he’s hungry.

Yes, he’s hungry. He’s always hungry! And so many of these people offer to _pay_ , it’s almost painful to deny them. And honestly, for a while, he does accept them; he’s _always hungry_ , and he’s still broke, and they’re kind.

But then Sakura tells him they’re not just kind, they’re _purposeful_ , and it makes him stop and think.

“Some of them probably want to just eat with you,” she told him, buffing her nails on the collar of her shirt. “But some of them want to _date_ you. They’re asking you out on a date, Naruto. Get it?”

“A date?” He’d asked, blindsided.

“A date,” Sakura had echoed, rolling her eyes. “You have to be clear with them, or half of Konoha is going to think they’re dating you. How do you think that’s gonna go, huh? Not well, I can tell you that right now.”

Naruto thinks about that conversation often. He took it to heart, and immediately started being clearer with those that sought him out.

He started saying things like, “Sure! We can go to Ichiraku! I take all my friends there to eat, it’s the best place!” And, “I’m always happy to eat with a friend.”

He made sure to set the boundaries as clearly as he knew how, in as pointed a manner as he could without being blatant. It seemed to work well, he thinks, considering how many repeat offenders started to dwindle off, no longer asking him to get food with them.

With all this talk about dating and dates and this new twist on the word _interest_ , he started to really think about his own feelings. He’d never really considered them before, not actively, and realizes that they have direction. They lead somewhere, though it takes him longer than it probably should to find out _where_ , and even when he does start to hone in on the target, he’s still clueless as to how to approach them.

Her.

He thinks it starts some time around August, when the sun bathes Konoha in heat and Hyuuga Hinata starts wearing her hair up in a long, silken tail.

Or maybe it was last December, when the snow fluttered through the midnight air in breathless whirls of ice and anticipation, and Hinata’s gaze was the source of his chills.

He doesn’t remember when it started, but sometimes when he becomes aware of the sunlight on his skin he remembers Hinata, younger and rounder and far less confident, supporting him against all odds.

Maybe…that was when…

“Naruto!” Someone calls, seamlessly shaking him from his thoughts. He pauses in his stride, turning over his shoulder with a curiously receptive expression. He finds a new friend, a girl that had introduced herself weeks prior and had yet to give up on his attention.

“Mei,” he greets, smiling. He tries to clear his mind of snow tufts and sunshine and doesn’t much manage to succeed at all. Still, he tries to give Mei his attention. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much,” she says, coming to his side. She gestures for them to continue, smoothly and easily, and Naruto follows her stride. He has to report to Kakashi—to the _Hokage_ , but the message wasn’t urgent. At least, he didn’t think it was urgent. Either way, he’s not necessarily in a hurry.

“You heading to the Tower?” Mei asks, and Naruto grins at her in response.

“Yup.”

She grins, shrugging her shoulders happily. Her hair, sallow and flickering, skims her throat in the slight breeze. Naruto notices freckles, there, and on the crests of her shoulders; without even realizing he does so, he begins to wonder if Hinata has freckles, too.

He hasn’t looked closely enough to know, but his gut tells him she doesn’t. Her skin is pale, soft and smooth like cream; he can’t imagine a blemish marring the surface. Even as he thinks it, he refutes it—Hinata is a warrior, a shinobi, and she has scars. He has _seen_ some of them.

He knows she suffered the edge of a katana through the left side of her waist, and miniscule kunai scars mar her back. He wants suddenly to trace them with his fingers, callused and worn as they are, and soothe any wayward ache they might still offer her.

“Naruto?” Mei says, and he realizes instantly that she’d been talking to him, and that he’d missed it all. He rubs at the back of his neck, embarrassed and stuttering.

“Uh,” he replies smartly, “Sorry, what?”

“Dinner,” she says, with nothing but gentle amusement. They slow to a stop and he realizes that they’re at the Hokage Tower, too, and he feels bad that he hasn’t listened to her. She deserves more than his wayward attention.“You wanna go tonight?”

And it’s not a new question, a new concept—she asks him out to dinner frequently, without pressure or judgment, just open hope. It’s not new, and he’s not surprised, but suddenly he has a new answer for her, and it’s one he feels like he’s been chasing for weeks.

“No,” he says, brutally honest by way of distraction. His eyes trail around the structures around them, openly searching, suddenly intent. He bites at his lip. “Sorry, but no.”

Her disappointment is measured, controlled, but noticeable. His heart twinges in his chest, and he wants immediately to soothe her, but Sakura taught him about leading people on, and he refuses. He refuses.

“You have plans?” She asks, and _this_ is new; persistence, possibly in response to his sudden diverted attention, and the way his heartbeat seems to have picked up in excitement. He wonders if she can hear it, and feels bad again, because it’s not for her.

“I,” he begins, hesitating. He runs a hand through his hair, mussing it up completely. “I hope so,” he says, and he turns back to her with a muted smile, one borne of novel understanding.

It feels powerful, when he finally admits it, both to himself and to the world.

“I like someone,” he says, and his heart sings in the coliseum of his chest, echoing joy right back at every facet of his being. “And you’re beautiful, and smart, but I don’t think you’re for me. You’re…not _her_.”

He doesn’t mean to hurt her, tries desperately to soften the blow, but the words come out jumbled and tripping. She doesn’t flinch or shy away from him, merely tilts her head with a muted expression of disappointment. Shadows crawl over her features, but she smiles through them, and that’s when Naruto knows she’s going to be okay. It’s a relief, he thinks, as she purses her smiling lips and laughs lowly under her breath.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, nodding her head. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. I just thought maybe I still had a chance.”

“Her?” Naruto asks, suddenly thrown. His eyes turn back to her and hold, steady and intimidating, and she shivers under his gaze. He barely notices, too focused on her words, on what they _mean_.

“Yeah,” she says, her laughter a little more genuine. “The Hyuuga princess.”

Naruto’s heart feels like a garden suddenly blooming, a thousand different kinds of flora opening up to the first kiss of sunlight. _So they know_ , he thinks wildly, happily, unable to hide the smile crawling over his face, _everyone saw it but me_.

The thought stops him in his tracks, because that means—if everyone sees it, if everyone _knows_ , then does she—does _Hinata_ —

Naruto turns on his heel and heads in the opposite direction of the Hokage Tower. He knows he’s being rude and he knows it’s unacceptable (he can practically hear Iruka-sensei scolding him already) but he only turns over his shoulder and calls out a farewell to Mei, and a thank you.

She grins shyly after him, but from then on he doesn’t see anything else but the paths through Konoha he has to take; the people he has to bypass with hurried excuses and rushed apologies; his only intent solely focused on the curved figure of pulsating chakra as soft as rose petals spiraling over the closest training field.

Naruto moves with purpose.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Naruto and Hinata train together.  
> Rating: _Teen and Up Audiences_.

Hinata’s fighting style is every bit the essence of a lightning strike without the actual electricity; it’s shockingly similar to Sasuke’s, and that’s enough to set Naruto on the defensive within an instant of her initial chakra flare. She’s quick and bright and _deadly_ , and chakra pulses around her fingertips, her hands. She moves so quick Naruto actually has to try to track her.

Naruto’s style has always been louder, a not quite slow rumbling full of power and intent that hits so hard the Earth can’t help but to tremble. He supposes, in the brief instant he has to retrace her steps before she appears just before him, that he is hers and Sasuke’s both, in a way—the following thunder to their electric activity.

Hinata zigzags beautifully towards him, far too quickly for him to evade with anything more than a last-second twist. She disappears in a blink, and the next thing he knows is her breath on his skin.

“Don’t,” Hinata breathes, close enough for her lips to just barely graze over the lobe of his ear, “Go easy on me.”

He has no momentum to push himself away, so he does the only thing left for him to do: he pushes _her_ away, and he uses Rasengan to do it. She manages to swipe a single fingertip over his waist before she’s blown away in a tangle of limbs and midnight hair, and he feels his chakra center flicker, the temporary absence of it so debilitating he falls to one knee.

Three of his shadow clones follow her path, meeting her when she summersaults to a standing position, but she’s prepared for them, even as she clutches at her pained stomach with one hand. His heart twinges, giving an almighty jerk towards her, a punishment and a yearning, both.

He’s used to her demanding fairness in their spars, and he tries to obey, but.

He doesn’t want to hurt her and he knows that he _can_. It’s not a question of who is stronger or quicker or more determined to land a hit—it’s more that they are on two different levels of power, and they both know it.

Even still, Hinata asks for his all, and he tries to give it.

For her, he would give anything.

He watches her almost carelessly dispose of his clones, spinning in lilting arcs, hands trailing beautifully overhead and around her in circumferential paths that take his breath away. His clones dissipate and he shudders, slowly getting back to his feet. He reaches up to flat pane of his shoulder, feeling the warmth of the skin there and knowing, _knowing_ that if he’d still had his arm she would’ve incapacitated it with that last swipe.

He looks up into her eyes and he can see that she knows it, too, and it’s enough to fill him with pride. She doesn’t let him hold it for too long, even when her lips curl up into a shy smile. She keeps that same grin even as she dashes towards him, hands outstretched and reaching dangerously.

He dances away from her touch with careful, measured movements, and listens to the way she controls her breaths. Time seems to slow as his eyes, wide and enamored, follow every one of her breathtakingly swift movements. She moves like a dancer, like danger, and it moves him, too.

She notices his inattentiveness, however, and she makes him pay for it. Her smile drops into something of a concentrated frown, lips pursed cutely, and Naruto smiles a second before he feels her leg impact his left instep.

His body is thrown to the ground and he has enough time to flip himself over onto his back before she’s on top of him, one hand poised around his throat, the other extended behind her, hovering carefully over a dangerous pressure point in the clone wielding a kunai at her throat. She grins down at him, panting and sweating, her bangs sticking messily to her face, and Naruto has never seen her look more beautiful.

“Woah,” he breathes, and he’s slightly out of breath, too. “Dang, Hinata.”

“You went easy on me,” she argues, and he feels her fingertips tighten for only a flicker of a second, enough time for a leaf to dance in the orchestra of a breeze around them, before her hand slides away to rest daintily on his shoulder. She allows her weight to settle over him, her legs around his hips, and he swallows.

His clone dissipates behind her and she relaxes her extended arm, bringing both hands down to rest on his shifting chest. She watches his face for a moment, lips still pursed as though debating whether she wants to maintain her frustration with him. He grins up at her, sharp-toothed and doting, and senses new presences nearby. They’re familiar, though, so he doesn’t pay them much attention.

This won’t be the first time village people have seen him and Hinata in suspicious positions on the training field.

He watches Hinata sense them a moment later, her eyes gleaming with sudden awareness. He lifts his hand to her hips and presses down warningly, and watches the way her cheeks flare with heat. She obeys the silent demand, however, and allows her chest to slowly drop to rest against his. He feels her nose nestle in against his neck, uncaring of how sweaty he is or the trail of blood running down his cheek from a slyly hidden kunai she’d thrown earlier.

His hand slides around her, pressing gently down against her tailbone, wanting them as close as possible. They’re both out of breath but he doesn’t mind the weight of her on top of him; it comforts him, and excites him.

“You’ve gotten quicker,” she breathes against his throat, as the village begins to awaken around them, the sun peeking over the mountains and people coming from their houses to walk the market streets. Some pass by them and laugh behind their hands, gesturing to their Hokage and his fiancé, so intimately exposed. Hinata presses so close to him he can feel the heat in her cheeks against his jaw, and he turns to nuzzle against her.

“So have you,” he whispers against her ear, allowing his teeth to gently tug. He hears her inhale and it makes chills race icy cold down his heated spine. Her fingers push up from his chest and run over his jaw, his cheeks, and into his hair. This, he thinks, eyes slipping shut, is his favorite feeling in the entire world.

The two of them alone and free before the sun rises, tangled up in each other and pressed close wherever they can, lips whispering promises against one another’s skin.

Naruto looks up at the opening sky and wonders if maybe, just maybe, their love is the reason it brightens.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: One of your fangirls told me that you've been cheating on me with her.  
> Rating: _General Audiences._

Naruto can’t remember a time in his life when he had been happier than this, walking hand-in-hand with Hinata through the streets of their home, his home. Her hand is warm in his, and slight, and he squeezes her fingers in comfort. She glances up at him with that same shy smile that had caught him so long ago, her eyes heavy and exploring, endlessly evoking.

“What?” She laughs, setting every one of his nerves aflame. He shivers underneath the power of her voice, her laughter, her joy. He moves in closer to her as they walk, uncaring of the people that glance their way and gossip, only needing to get closer to her. Her shoulder brushes against his arm and he smiles down at her, eyes flashing before shutting tight, laughter slipping teasingly through his lips.

“I just adore you,” he says blithely, opening his eyes to watch the blush he knows will spread across her nose and cheeks. Sure enough, her fair skin permeates pink and his heart gives a one-two stutter in his chest; so easily affected.

“Hey,” she jokes, nudging him with her shoulder, fingers tightening around his. “You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?”

“What?” he asks, eyebrows jumping. “Loving you?”

This time the flush saturates deeper and moves farther, spreading down her throat. She glances up at him, playfully appalled, and makes as if to move on ahead of him, the cord of their linked hands pulling taut. He resists her intent, though, easily matching her shorter stride and bringing her back into the nook of his shoulder.

“You really love me, Naruto-kun?” She asks suddenly, and it shocks Naruto enough that he jumps a little, immediately turning to her with a frown, ready to scold her for having no faith in the honesty of his feelings. He has a speech already building loud and hearty on his tongue, ready to declare the truth of his love for her to anyone within hearing distance, and possibly even beyond that.

But when he glances over at her she’s smiling, nearly laughing, and he knows that she’s teasing. And just like that, he deflates, the wind rushing out of his sails, and he reaches across with his free hand to lightly graze a knuckle over the heat of her cheekbone.

He boasts, “’Course I do. Believe it!”

She hums, sneaky and conspiratorial in a way he knows is usually dangerous.

“You’ve become quite popular. I’m not the only one looking at you anymore.”

Naruto frowns, not understanding. He tilts his head at her, silently inquiring, and she concedes.

“If it’s true that you love me,” she begins, and he has to cut her off immediately, insistent as steel.

“It’s true! It’s totally true! Believe it, Hinata!”

She laughs, shaking her head at him. She moves seamlessly out of the way of a passing couple, elderly and slow moving, and bows her head lightly in respect even as she turns back to him with a wicked gleam in her amused eyes. Naruto frowns, trying to figure her out before she gets the words out, but he’s lost.

“If it’s true,” she repeats, quite pointedly, still grinning like the devil. “Then why am I hearing from one of your fans that you’ve been cheating on me with her?”

Naruto stops walking, and his temper flares. Eyes wide, he searches Hinata’s expression with an intensity that makes her laugh. He hopes that the fact that she’s laughing is a good sign, that she believes him, believes the _truth_ , that there has not and will not ever be anyone for him but _her_.

He says as much, words slipping from his lips quicker than he can control, and all the while he watches her expressions for any sign of chance. All he finds of her is calm amusement, and something deeper and softer, painted in the whirls of blush on her cheeks and the midnight gleam of her eyes, something a lot like love.

She has mercy on him eventually, lifting her free hand to his cheek. She lets her thumb rub soothingly against the skin of his cheek, the ridged scars there, and he watches her carefully even as he leans into her touch.

“Ah, Naruto-kun,” she sighs, and she sounds happy. That makes him straighten, hope refreshed in his system, pumped through his veins like a drug. “I believe you. I’ve always believed you.”

Naruto sighs, a massive whooshing exhale that completely empties his lungs. He realizes in the curve of her amused grin and her forthcoming explanation that she’s been teasing him, and it makes him feel suddenly more alive, knowing that she can be playful, too.

“Your fan,” she explains, “My inside source you’re apparently cheating on me with? Her name is Mirai.”

Naruto’s heart nearly stops, but then he bursts into laughter, curling over his stomach with Hinata’s hand still clasped in his own. He laughs so hard tears appear at the corners of his eyes, and suddenly every mite of tension that had rested upon his shoulders dissipates. He glances over at Hinata and shakes his head, biting lightly at his lip.

“Mean,” he whines, “that was so _mean_ , Hinata!”

All this time she’d been teasing him he’s been so worried she’d been serious, that painful insecurity she’s still working on in herself rearing its head once more. She appreciates actions more than words, he knows, but they’ve been together long enough for him to know that words don’t hurt either. That’s why he tells her he loves her whenever he can, as often as he can. It doesn’t cheapen the word or the sentiment, or make less of it.

It makes it stronger. It reinforces it through repetition.

_I love you. You’re mine. This is not going to change._

The more he says it, the more he hopes it will seat inside her heart, in every loving curve of her. He wants her to know it. He wants her to trust it.

“She talks about you all the time,” Hinata says when he finally gets himself together, standing back to his full height and tugging lightly on her hand. He turns over his shoulder and finds her smiling at him, eyes heavy and reflective, loving and doting and everything he tries to express to her in words. He wonders how she does that, so easily making him breathless.

“Well,” he stalls, tone playful. “I am a lot to talk about. And she did just learn how to speak. ”

Hinata laughs out loud, and he gasps, pretending to be affronted.

“Hey!” He chides, pulling her into his side and releasing her hand in favor of wrapping his arm around her shoulders. He tucks her head in close, until his forehead is against her temple, the two of them jostling together in their strides.

It’s his turn to be a little shy now; skin feeling hot for some reason he can’t even comprehend. His lips press lightly against her cheek and he says, “You’re my number one girl, though. Always.”

And he feels her arm slide around his waist, anchoring them together.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina prompt: He watched as Pein's chakra rod pierced her skin. And his world ended.  
> Rating: _General Audiences._

There are moments, Naruto thinks, where he remembers the darkness.

There’s a certain kind of viscosity to the memory of fear, one so alike to the memory of helplessness, thick and all consuming. It’s not something he draws up from the dregs of his life on purpose, as if wanting to spend any more time in the shadows of vulnerability that he had been forced into.

He doesn’t will them into being, flashes of a past reality he was swept up into, a pebble carried on the tail end of a relentless wind, thrown to the shore to the ocean to the _deep_.

Sometimes, though, he blinks.

It’s that quick, the darkness. He closes his eyes long enough to remember the paralytic effect of fear, the daunting dimming of his domain, the taste of iron in his skin.

(In his mouth, his mouth, curled and gaping; his eyes, unblinking)

The darkness thinks to teach him a lesson, and says, “You will know pain.”

He considers the reality of pain. If he had still been young, the child pariah abandoned and detested, he might have thought, _it is all I have known_.

But Naruto has never been in the business of pitying himself for the hand he’s been dealt, or lingering on despair. He plans immediately to push through it, to make his way to a conclusion that he can be proud of, that he can feel right about. His history is a mountain range of scattered trees decimated into trunks torn down and beaten under promise of resilience, growing tiny but hardy sprouts of _belief_. He has never met a monster he hasn’t wanted to understand, and so far, none of them have played a game he couldn’t win.

He breathes, and the darkness inhales, taking and taking and taking.

Iron pierces through the delicate wing of Hinata’s shoulder, scarlet over porcelain, and when Naruto blinks he wonders if she tastes the iron, too.

The shadows always envy the light, the flexibility and the resilience of it, and they are not strangers to the want of reaching it.

But monsters don’t touch without intent to maim, and shadows play delicately with the lace trail of light within reach, staining the fringes with the permanence of concentrated malice and manipulation.

A world of black with emphasized images of strangers he wanted to make friends, turning away. Images and memories and retellings of every moment he was left behind by those he doesn’t know and never knew, not the only important thing to recall, but important.

But painful; everything so beautifully and starkly cast in light against shadow, so elegantly and carefully twisted to wound—

Iruka-sensei standing over him, shaking, skin left behind on the blades of a fuuma shuriken, and smiling. The back of a friend the shade so indulgently engulfs, light giving way to dark, a crescent fallen aside.

Hyuuga Hinata’s heartbeat slipping away, her eyes sliding shut.

Naruto tastes the iron of blood in his mouth and hears nothing outside of the one-two gong of his heart, a calling and a warning, both—he blinks, and the monster in the shadows of his mind smiles, too.

The fading vestiges of Naruto watch Hinata’s blood pool around her before the scream trapped in his throat deepens and darkens and it’s not his voice but the monster’s and the darkness—

The darkness _wins_.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Just let me lay down in your sunlight. I love the way it makes me come alive.  
> Rating: _Teen and Up Audiences._

Waking up next to Naruto feels like the sun greets her personally, sinks straight through the layers of her. They keep the blinds shut tight, trying in vain to trick their brains into thinking that it’s night time—that they have more time, before they have to get up and get ready and get _moving_.

Naruto shifts first, and Hinata knows without having to look that he’s stretching, arms extended high overhead, chest pushed forward. She knows without having to look, but she looks anyways.

Naruto catches her stare and grins, sloppy and lop-sided, eyes creased shut.

“I’m up before you,” he acknowledges teasingly. “Lazy!”

She merely groans in response, reaching out from under the blankets to pinch lightly at the skin of his waist. There’s a scar around there, she thinks idly, sleepily.

“Come on, come on,” he says, shifting around until he’s sitting up beside her, blankets draped around his hips. His muscles flex and twitch with every movement, and Hinata is a perpetually captivated audience, silently appraising. She feels his hand slide over the blanket, up her arm and to her shoulder. He massages her skin there, fingertips gentle and soothing.

Hinata flicks her gaze up to his face, studying the still-there pillow creases left behind on his cheeks, and the way his eyes dance in the shadows. It’s midday, and they both have mission reports to pick up, but still she lays there. It’s easy to lose track of time like this; to gaze idly at Naruto in wonder, in awe. To look just to _look_.

“You’re going to be late,” Naruto sings, laughing lowly. He leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead, scattering her already tussled bangs. He pulls away and gazes down at her fondly, head tilted and smile crooked.

“I’m warming up to it,” she says, finally, with a voice like crushed stone. She clears her throat as delicately as she can, blushing all the while as she tries to decipher what time it is, and how long they’d slept. Sunlight creeps through the blinds, spilling through like gold, cast iron under such heat. 

“You’re stalling,” Naruto counters playfully, watching her eyes trail around the room for only a moment before catching his once more “Totally stalling.”

“Naruto-kun,” she complains, voice low and intimate as she brings a hand out and pulls gently on his shoulder. She waits for him to relax into the touch—it only takes so long as the sensation of her fingertips on his skin to register—before he’s leaning down with her pull, until his head hits the pillow. She moves carefully, wedging herself against his side, her ear lying over his heart. Her left hand splays over his chest, fingers spread wide, as if to reach as much of him as she possibly can, even with such a minuscule, thoughtless gesture.

“It’s the middle of the day,” Naruto reminds her, one arm coming up to rub soothing circles against her back, right along the line of her spine. “You’re bein’ a little dramatic about this waking up thing.”

“Dramatic?” She asks, stifling laughter. She thinks of every morning with Naruto’s head in his hands, groaning about not wanting to get out of bed, about the coldness of the floor and the air and the water in the shower. She thinks of just yesterday, on their _mission_ , when he had refused to leave his blanket—even when the enemy appeared right outside their cave front. “Me?”

“Yes you,” Naruto says seriously, and she can hear the way he struggles to maintain his composure in the slight tremble of his words, wobbling with suppressed laughter.

She snuggles in close to him, feeling every idle movement of his hand on her back. The ease of this coveted intimacy, something she had only ever dreamt of before, baffles her. That she can lay against him, skin to skin, and feel nothing but joy as his fingertips move over her, every touch a promise and a treat.

She remembers thinking about this, dreaming of it—wondering what it would be like to wake up next to Naruto in the mornings. She remembers the emptiness of her own bed in the morning, and the heavy feeling of loneliness settling in close; the way she felt robotic in the morning, just for those few seconds, the life drained out of her by the stark reality of her loneliness.

Now, however, she moves in close to him and presses her lips to his skin. He’s warm—he’s _always_ warm. Just as the sun heats the Earth in welcome, breathing life and action into everything that had been still, Naruto breathes into her. He moves in her, a simple glance, a cherished touch, and she feels reborn.

“Just a few more minutes,” she pleads, puffing out a breath against his skin, just to see his muscles twitch. “Just let me lay down in your sunlight.”

_I love the way it makes me come alive_.

Naruto laughs, lips pressed to her forehead, and together they greet the day.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Love is the jelly to sunshine’s peanut butter. And if I tell you that I’m in sandwich with you, I’m not just saying it to get in your Ziploc bag.  
> Rating: _Teen and Up Audiences._

Naruto approaches her from the east, and there are stripes of determination in every sharp line of him, his gaze steady and unwavering. She pauses, arms full of groceries, and turns to receive him. Her heart’s already racing by the time he manages to stop in front of her, the usual reaction to seeing him, to being close enough to touch.

“Hinata,” he breathes, panting. Her eyes scan over him, seeking injuries, that perhaps he’d come straight from the training grounds, but she finds nothing on his person but resolve.

They’re standing in the middle of one of the busiest streets of Konoha, just along the market district, and the commotion is only distracting enough for a few moments before Hinata recognizes in the trembling of his hands that Naruto is nervous.

“I’ve been trying to figure things out here for a while now, and I think I’ve finally got it.”

Hinata hasn’t a clue in the world what he could be talking about, but she nods anyways, slowly, wonderingly, because Naruto usually doesn’t follow confusing trains of thought. He usually moves through them, finds a shortcut and exploits them until a semblance of an acceptable and working answer is at his fingertips. That is his way.

“I spoke to Iruka-sensei,” he begins, and Hinata’s eyebrows jump up in surprise. What does Iruka have to do with anything? “And I asked him about love.”

_Love_ , Hinata thinks, fingers tightening around her groceries, ribcage swallowing her heart whole. Naruto has been chasing tendrils of love, seeking answers, and he’s come to _her_.

“Love?” she whispers, and her brows dip low to purse, skeptical and curious and hopeful.

“We’ve been dating for a few months now,” he says, and it shocks her again to hear it. Naruto rarely puts it into words, which is fine; actions have always spoken louder to her. But this moment feels somehow pointed, and significant, in a way that requires verbalization. That Naruto had read as much into the same air surprises her, in a pleasant way.

“We have sex all the time,” Naruto says, openly in the middle of the street with reckless, uncaring abandon, and Hinata is a blink away from melting through the dirt. Her face and ears and throat heat molten in seconds, and if her arms hadn’t been tied up with groceries, she would’ve covered her face from the embarrassment.

“But that’s not, like, the point. I mean it’s a really great thing, and I don’t ever want to stop, it’s actually probably my favorite thing, but it’s not…” And here, he stops to angrily blow out a puff of air, leaning all of his weight on his hip. He mouths something to himself, possibly encouragement, maybe criticism.

“Iruka-sensei told me a lot of things I don’t remember,” Naruto continues on, just as blithely, and Hinata wants to laugh. But then she realizes that Naruto has been talking about their sex life to Iruka, their old Academy teacher and also Naruto’s dad, and she feels immediately faint. She wonders if, by association, Kakashi knows, too. Given that he is now also Naruto’s dad.

She decides then and there to stop thinking about it entirely, because she wants to be awake and conscious for this conversation. So she turns her frazzled focus back to Naruto and finds herself locked in the steel of his gaze, certain and steadfast.

Naruto says, “But I got the gist.”

“The gist,” Hinata laughs lightly, beaming at him. Someone bumps slightly into her from behind, pushing her a little closer to Naruto, and he receives the movement smoothly, with hands coming up to rest gently on her cheeks. He stares down at her with a gravity she can only remember seeing on the preface of war, and it sends her heart into a flurry in response.

“Love is the jelly to sunshine’s peanut butter,” he says, unblinking, “And if I tell you that I’m in sandwich with you, I’m not just saying it to get in your _Ziploc bag_.”

Hinata blinks, once, slowly, and then she has to put everything she has into stifling her laughter. The tension rolls out of her with ease, loosening every line of her back into delicately smoothed arcs, and her eyes light with adoration.

“I understand,” she says, and it shows how close they’ve grown and how well they understand each other that in this explanation, she truly does understand, and Naruto expects her to.

“I know you’re in sandwich with me,” she says, and she can’t help it this time: she bursts into laughter, but most of it is simple joy, and Naruto brightens in response, that easily. “And because you’re in sandwich with me, you can continue to get in my Ziploc bag.”

Hinata makes the mistake of flickering her gaze away from Naruto and lands on a young boy, no older than thirteen, frozen to the spot and staring at them in pursed confusion. He mutters, “What the _heck_ kind of mixed signals,” and then he drops his skateboard back to the dirt and kicks off, shaking his head. Hinata is ready for a cold shower, a sudden downpour, anything to cool the filched heat of her skin.

_Embarrassing_ , she thinks for just a moment before Naruto leans in over her groceries and presses a kiss to her cheek, and then her lips, once, and then twice.

“I am,” he laughs, citrus joy brushing against her chapped lips, “I am totally, one hundred percent in sandwich with you.”

And really, Hinata thinks as she presses further into his lips, his kiss, his joy, that’s all she’s ever wanted.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Nardo is head and shoulders taller than Hina-bae  
> Rating: _General Audiences._

Hyuga Hinata is used to being around people she has to look up to, both literally and figuratively. Mostly literally, though.

Shino is a frequent towering presence beside her, one that casts a very cool shadow. Kiba isn’t particularly _tall_ , but he still manages to need to look down to meet her eyes. They’d all grown in different ways, over the years; her boys mostly grew upwards, their height expanding every day it seemed.

She grew in dips and curves, her waist tucking in and her hips flaring out. She grew a little taller as well, but it wasn’t anything to brag about. It’s not that she had ever been self-conscious about that, though. There were a lot of people, men and women, that were her height, and she was comfortable with it.

Uzumaki Naruto used to be about her height, but that was back before he left the village with Jiraiya, on some grand adventure to gather strength and wisdom and answers to unasked questions.

The first time Hinata sees him step foot back inside the village hidden in the leaves, she has to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.

_Oh_ , she thinks, when his smiling gaze turns and cuts through the crowd to find her, lips lifting into a delighted curl. Their friends seem to appear out of the woodwork of neighboring buildings, and instantly gravitate towards him and the inherent, gravitational pull of his joy.

“Hinata!” He greets, and he comes to her without hesitation, even as she continues to blink up at him, head craned back. He moves easily amongst their friends, and the every now and again village civilian stopping to stare at him in wonder.

She can’t remember a time when Naruto had ever stood so tall, or seemed so _big_. Her eyes drop to glance off the sharp edges of his wide shoulders and she has to swallow, heavily. Heat flares in her cheeks as she takes in the breadth of his chest, wide and strong and straining underneath the material of his undershirt.

“Long time no see,” he says, voice suddenly sounding lower, softer, almost gentle. He stops a step away from her and she can’t believe how big he’s grown—

It had always felt the greatest distance in the world, the space between his lips and hers. Now, though, she can’t imagine ever getting a chance at them.

She says, “Welcome back, Naruto-kun.”

She watches the way he receives the words, and how his eyes flicker with some inexplicable understanding. Their friends crowd around them, chattering a hundred miles a minute, calling out to Naruto and asking about what he’d done and what he’d learned, and yet he doesn’t look away from Hinata for a moment—not even to blink. His eyes settle heavily, dotingly, and she watches his hand lift to trail along her cheek. Time slows around her.

His fingertips trail over the edge of her jaw, so undeniably _gentle_ , before he exerts the slightest amount of pressure just under the bell of her chin. He tilts her face higher, allows the sun to pool against her forehead and cheeks, and Naruto leans down until his lips press just once, so softly, against her lips.

He pulls back a moment later, his magnificent shoulders still hunched down to her level, and he smiles.

“It’s good to be home.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Jealous Kiss (Version 1).  
> Rating: _Mature._

“I loved you first,” Hinata whispers, lips pressed against Naruto’s ear. “I’ve loved you longest.”

She can’t quite bear to pull back and see his face, to see his reaction to her words. She’s never felt this way before, with jealousy curling viscous and catching in her stomach. She understands, fundamentally, that jealousy is a normal reaction when controlled.

Yet, she hadn’t known that it would be so difficult _to_ control.

She can feel his breath on her neck just as well as she can feel her hands shaking, not from anger, but insecurity. Naruto has a lot of fans, more so now than ever, and there are so many people that are special, smart, beautiful. It seems impossible that he’d choose her, out of everyone else, _her_ —to have, to hold, to _keep_.

But she wants it. And she wants to fight for it.

She swallows heavily, building her courage as she pulls back and dares to look into his eyes at last. She studies his expression, stark with surprise, and finds the lack of disgust a sign of encouragement. She moves in cautiously, pressing her lips to his like a question. For a moment, she thinks he won’t respond, won’t even move, but then—it’s just _easy_ , the way his hands come up to cup her cheeks and he presses into her.

She kisses him with intent, then, courage bolstered and love outpouring; she pushes forward and licks into his mouth, breathing in his surprised exhale, and the way his hands pull her closer. She kisses him like they’re running out of time, even when his reciprocation means that they have all the time in the world.

Hinata pulls him to her and whispers, “You’re mine,” and Naruto shivers against her, breathing, “Damn right.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Jealous Kiss (Version 2).  
> Rating: _Mature._

Naruto has a complicated relationship with jealousy.

He understands it in terms of envy; he remembers watching his friends get picked up by their parents and older siblings after school while he remained by himself, on the outskirts, in the shadows, utterly alone. He may have been jealous of their lives, their families, but he understood them.

He does not understand the kind of jealousy that curls low and hot in his gut whenever he sees someone standing too close to Hinata, or being too physical, or watching her in any way that isn’t simply _friendly_. He’s never had cause to feel this way; Hinata doesn’t encourage anything untoward and she moves carefully out of reach when interested parties overstep their bounds.

Even still, jealousy burns away at him on the inside and he’s left wondering why his hands curl into fists and the monster in his mind doesn’t have Kurama’s voice but _his own_ , and why it suddenly sounds so persuasive. How easy it would be to deter those who touch Hinata with a sneer of sharpened canines and pinprick eyes, chakra radiating.

He doesn’t do this, because he respects Hinata.

Instead, he responds to jealousy in the same way he responds to anything he doesn’t understand; he leaps headlong into the fray.

Hinata barely makes it through the door before Naruto has her pinned against the wall, hands curling possessively around her hips, lips pressing into the skin of her throat. He licks at her pulse, feels it tripping under the skin, and _sucks_. Hinata’s hands wind around his neck, fingers carding through his hair. Her lips press to his ear and she says, “ _more_.”

The fire in Naruto’s belly becomes something far more enjoyable, and the static in his mind dissolves into oblivion.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Himawari, doesn't it bother you that dad's never home?  
> Rating: _General Audiences._

“Himawari, doesn’t it bother you that dad’s never home?”

Himawari glances up from the brownies she’s making, blinking at her older brother. Boruto leans against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, frowning. It still surprises her how time has shaped him, scraped off the roundness of his cheeks and tummy to leave sharp edges barbed and cutting behind. The fine line of his jaw juts out petulantly, something Himawari is familiar enough with to know something is bothering him, but he refuses to say it.

She wipes her powder-covered hands on her apron, away from the frills, and studies his expression a moment longer. The long tail of her hair grazes the exposed skin of her tailbone, where her crop top doesn’t quite reach. She lifts the pan full of nearly-done brownies and twirls it idly on a fingertip, not taking her eyes from Boruto’s expression.

Boruto isn’t particularly sly when it comes to his feelings; Himawari shares that trait with him, though she _is_ far more cunning.

“Why do you ask?” She watches the way his eyebrows tilt, frustrated with her deflection, and the way he nearly rolls his eyes to look away from her critical expression.

“I don’t know,” he says, uncrossing his arms to run his fingers through his hair. He completely messes up his ponytail and doesn’t seem to mind, and Himawari finds the way the hairs stick up and out of place amusing, so she doesn’t say a word. She studies his posture, casually unattached, and the way he taps his fingers idly against his thigh. “He trains with me a lot but I never…I don’t usually see…does he ask to train with you? Do you ask him to?”

The bombardment of questions has Himawari raising her eyebrows, the corner of her lips quirking in amusement.

“I do,” she says honestly, stopping the pan from spinning on her fingertip with chakra alone. She turns to the oven and slides it in, setting the timer for just another few minutes and moving back towards the sink to wash her hands. She hums while she does so, cleaning under her finger nails in the same way she would if there was blood there, and the silence between the two of them is not uncomfortable. In just the same way that Himawari is used to Boruto’s stunted pouting, he is used to her exhaustive contemplation. The thought makes her smile, even as she grabs a kunai from the counter and twirls it around her finger once, then twice, before hurling it blindly over her shoulder.

Boruto catches it easily, not even looking at her. He traces the handle of it and the kunai disappears in a puff of smoke, and the tip of a real kunai presses against his throat. Boruto sighs, shoulders sagging a little in abject boredom. He disappears a moment later in his own cloud of smoke, and Himawari’s clone feels a blade pressed to her throat instead.

“Yeah,” Boruto says, “He taught me that too. When I was _five_.”

“I’m just playing,” Himawari laughs from the sink, wiping her hands on a towel. She tilts her head at Boruto, her expression shifting with the seriousness of his own. It’s evident, then, that whatever it is exactly that has been bothering him, it’s not trivial in his mind. It’s important.

“Sometimes,” she finally answers truthfully, tiling her head. “Sometimes it bugs me that he’s not around a lot. Never home. But I know why he’s busy; we have an entire village of kids to contend with.”

“But we’re _his_ kids,” Boruto insists, with no real dragging irritation. Himawari picks out the concern in his tone and she can’t help but to smile when recognition pools and settles within her. He’s _worried_ about her.

Boruto pulls himself away from the doorway with a sigh, straightening his wide shoulders. He’s in his jonin vest, and Himawari _knows_ he has a mission he should be heading out for, but he purses his lips and he stays a little longer with her just to ensure that she’s okay.

It’s true that Naruto is rarely home with them, but Himawari doesn’t fault him for it. Naruto has a trifecta of homes, and only one of them is unmovable—Hinata, Himawari and Boruto, and Konoha.

But she also understands Boruto’s point, and his concern. Naruto is not perfect and Himawari doesn’t allow him to get away with everything. The way he treats Boruto is nothing like how he treats her, and that’s okay, usually. But sometimes it’s not.

It doesn’t surprise Himawari that Boruto has been sulking over this for who knows how long—he has always, _always_ been protective of her. Even and especially where Naruto is concerned. Himawari grins, flitting suddenly across the kitchen to leap into Boruto’s arms. She ignores his startled complaints and the way he stands awkwardly for a moment wrapped up in her arms as she laughs against him and lightly head-butts him, almost like a kitten; gentle and innocent, as though she hadn’t just thrown a kunai with lethal accuracy straight at his heart a moment earlier.

“You’re silly, bro.” She pulls back and beams up at him, says, “I’m okay. I’m saving real training with dad for when I’m sure I can make him sweat. We have many aunts and uncles looking after me, you know.”

Boruto rolls his eyes, but his smile is a slow acceptance, and his shoulders settle from their tensed perch by his ears. “I know.”

“Besides,” Himawari says, fluttering back and away from him to pull her brownies from the oven a few seconds before the timer was to sound. She pulls two kunais seemingly out of thin air and slices the brownies into perfectly even cuts, before removing the largest piece from the tray. She lets it cool for only a few seconds and wraps it up in a knapsack, neat and tidy. She turns back to Boruto and her grin falls away to something a little less wholesome and a lot more devious and Boruto groans. She throws the brownie to him and the kunai at him, and in the span of time through which he easily deflects the kunai and the brownie falls into his hands, she flickers across the room and takes him out at the knees.

He leaps a moment before she can, but she already has a hand on his waist and she _pushes_ , chakra-laced and intent, and Boruto stumbles. She doesn’t stand above a crouch once, and gets her legs around him with enough momentum to throw him to the ground. He lands with an _oof_ , nothing too dangerous—she’s pleased to see that he protected the brownie against his chest the entire time—and she stands over him with her hands on her hips, smug as the devil.

“Uncle Sasuke has been teaching me well.”

And then a moment later, with Boruto still looking up at her in exasperation, she smiles and says, “Enjoy your brownie, brother.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Olympics au.  
> Rating: _General Audiences._

It’s not uncommon for them to train in the same gym.

It’s also not uncommon for them to train on the same floor, using similar instruments.

Hinata favors the floor, the freedom and the music and the intimacy of doing a routine so many times so _well_ that it’s hers, it’s hers, it’s hers _completely_. When she’s in the gym, she can feel eyes on her; watching her every leaping twist, the slight jump back on her landings.

But when she’s performing, when there’s no time left for practice only _perfection_ , she is alone. She stands with her heels just barely kissing the edges of the floor corner, and she smiles when she’s given the signal to begin. But she doesn’t see them, not the judges or the people.

There is only this: the lights and the music and _her_.

The way the music makes her feel, and the sensation of flight.

When she trains, she spends more of her time on the floor. Her coach scolds her for it, at times, but lets her have her fun, too. At this, the Olympic level, there is a fine line coaches must toe with their athletes, somewhere between needing to be strict enough to keep them focused, and allowing them their fun lest they burn out.

Kurenai does well to balance Hinata on that line, and allows her frequent freedom to practice her routine on the floor. She doesn’t avoid the other instruments, though, and is even thought to be a little strange for how comfortable she is on the beam.

It’s the uneven bars that give her pause, and which Kurenai often finds her practicing on late into the night. It’s not so much the routines themselves, the twists and the handstands, so perfectly steady. It isn’t even really the looming possibility of crashing down and hitting the floor.

It’s in the breathless moments between her hands releasing the bar and reaching out blindly, hoping she’ll find them. It’s the moments that seem to take an eternity in-between each skill, that can so easily lead to failure.

Sometimes, when she throws herself spinning and twisting sky-high over the bar, risking a devastating crash right back to Earth, she thinks of a fable about a kid who flew too close to the sun, and burned.

And burned.

Hinata allows the quiet of the not-yet-filled arena to smooth over her, eyes steady as she takes a deep breath and begins to leap across the floor. She takes flight as easily as breathing, one of the most renowned tumblers alive and only nineteen, and seamlessly completes a perfect double layout. She punctuates her landing by throwing her hands in the air, practicing to make perfect, and takes her second pass just to practice one of her trickier skills.

She’s been practicing this pass since she was fourteen, and she’s the only person so far who’s been able to land it perfectly. She builds speed and even as a pass that’s packed full of skills, it flies by her in the blink of an eye. She lands it perfectly; no hop or step out of place, and a smile rises over her lips as she straightens back to her full height.

“Awesome,” someone says, and it startles Hinata enough to make her jump. She’s surrounded by people, other gymnasts practicing and preparing for the following few days and the all-around finals, but still she had gotten lost in her own mind, her own routine. She didn’t even have the music, but the movements had been enough to lull her into something of a focused trance.

She turns and heat finds her cheeks, blinking as she sees Uzumaki Naruto heading her way, eyes bright as day.

“That was freakin awesome!” He says again, shaking his head in wonder. He stops a few feet away from her and scans over her with his eyes, which only causes her body to heat even more. They’ve been training together for years, having both been in similar skill levels through the years before he suddenly left her behind and found himself on the podium. Hinata’s own cousin is on the Japanese men’s team, holding the best-recorded performance for rings, and the fourth best on the high bar.

Naruto rose to fame four years prior for a groundbreaking score on vault, and the best men’s floor exercise the world had yet to see. He took silver for the men’s all-around and has been reportedly promising gold this time around, with a revamped set of routines and a determination that seems impenetrable.

This is Hinata’s second Olympics, but she has yet to make the podium. It had been a long-shot for the both of them; he, an orphaned kid who couldn’t afford a gym membership let alone food on his table, and she a failed prodigy hidden away in the shadow of a genius with her same blood.

But Naruto and Hinata were made of stronger stuff, not willing to give in or give up. The infamous all-around champion Hatake Kakashi took Naruto under his wing early, and Hinata found a network of supporters in her friends and eventually, her cousin too. And she made it here with their encouragement and her hard work.

“Thank you,” she says, still slightly out of breath. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, fine,” he says, and Hinata has to laugh. Even with the biggest events of his life less than a few days away, Naruto seems completely unaffected. His hair sticks to the sweat of his forehead and the wraps around his wrists leave his skin flushed under the chalk. “What about you? I’m so freakin excited to get to see your floor!”

Hinata feels the heat in her cheeks spread to the tips of her ears and almost wishes that he wouldn’t have said that. It’s frightening enough, standing in front of an arena of thousands and cameras with _nations_ behind them—now she’s going to have the constant reminder that the secret love of her life is going to be watching _her_ specifically, too.

“Ah,” she says, and the breath leaves her heavily. “Thank you. I’m excited to show it.”

“An unbelievable amount of work in these routines,” Naruto says, sighing. Hinata watches the carefree shift of his expression even as he catches sight of someone from America making the high bar look far too easy. “And so many strong competitors around us.”

Hinata glances the same way and watches, while not really watching at all. She considers Naruto’s style of gymnastics, and wonders how he could ever feel threatened by anyone else, even if he hadn’t made gold yet. She doesn’t doubt the strength of his competitors; she knows exactly how incredible they are and how close the scores will be.

But Naruto performs the most dangerous and highest difficulty skills of anyone in all of the gymnastics events, and he does them _effortlessly_. Naruto’s floor exercise has the highest potential score value she’s ever seen, and he does the kinds of risky and complex skills that other competitors do in their first pass _last_.

In this, at least, she understands completely the pressure and the exultation of knowing that you’re above the rest at least in this, for she also does a full set of four incredibly difficult passes on floor.

It’s not floor she’s worried about, though, and looking over at Naruto as he watches his competitors on high bar, she knows it’s not what he’s worried about either. That’s not to say that he looks worried in the slightest—no, there’s a wicked gleam in his eyes, a flickering flame, and the challenge of strong opposition has him jittery and _eager_.

He turns to her with those same nefarious eyes, his smile carved into the strength of his square jaw. “They’re strong, but I’ve got a lot of tricks up my sleeves this time around, believe it.”

And she does—how can she not? She falls into the confidence of his expression and wonders again if Naruto ever feels fear, or doubt. She turns over her shoulder and watches a young girl from China sail effortlessly over the uneven bars, hands reaching and finding the bars without hesitation.

Naruto must sense her unease. His voice is low when he asks, “Are you worried?”

“No, not worried,” she whispers, turning back to gauge his expression. He studies her critically, unashamed in his watchfulness or the way he knows she knows he’s _staring_. She doesn’t want to say, _I’m afraid_ , because she doesn’t want him to think she fears the event.

She fears failure.

That breathless moment of _what if_ when her hands let go of the bar, and all she has is her own momentum and a crowd of billions holding their breath for her.

“It’s okay,” he says, before she can even find the words to explain. She glances up at him, wide-eyed and wary, and he smiles so gently it moves through her in molten waves. “It’s a lot of pressure, and it can be scary. But you can do it.”

“It’s not the fall,” she explains jaggedly, twisting her fingers together.

“I know,” Naruto replies quietly, and Hinata’s eyes leap to his immediately, doubtful. At once she sees the recognition in his eyes, however, and it stays her tongue. “Getting here, being the best? It should be enough. It is. But we’re strong, Hinata. _You’re strong_. And maybe we’re the best we’ve ever been, right? But you know what else?”

Hinata can barely breathe, and it’s then that she realizes her heart has been racing, and she’s actually truly a little out of breath. She lifts a hand absentmindedly over her heart, trying to soothe it, and Naruto tilts his head with open affection. He reaches out and cups her cheeks in his hands, chalky and steady and warm.

“We can be _better_ ,” he says, and it’s exactly the kind of reassurance that Hinata didn’t even know she needed. “All you have to do is breathe. You can do that, right?”

Hinata takes a deep breath without even thinking about it, and Naruto’s lips curl in a receptive smile. “I can,” she says, and she makes it a statement, steel-backed and firm. She is not the little girl stuck in the shadows of greatness anymore, she thinks. She stands out on her own and the lights find _her_.

Around them, the employees call for the arena to be emptied; practice is over, the gym is closed, and tomorrow is close enough to touch. The lights begin to flicker on the outskirts, preparing to be shut down.

Naruto cups her face in his hands and she watches the tender flash of his oceanic eyes, calming tides rushing against the shifting of her shores. Everything stills; everything quiets.

“Just breathe,” he says, so softly, the arena lights flickering out around them. “And fly.”

 

✧

 

Sometimes in gymnastics you find that when you’re on, you’re _on_.

For the women’s all-around finals, Hinata is _on_. She does exceptionally on the beam, and holds steady enough to score well on the vault.

Now, she stands on the floor and she turns to the judges with her gentle smile, eyes catching every figment of light in the arena and holding. She settles neatly into the corner of the floor, and she holds utterly still as the air around her quiets, and silences. There are a few precious seconds before her music starts, and she takes them to drown the entire world out of her focus. The faces in the stands and those she knows to be behind the cameras, the lights that glare down at her golden and true, the roar of the crowd when someone does something especially incredible—it all falls away.

She breathes and she holds herself so completely still, and in that moment she has never felt so free; her heart is her only companion and somewhere in the back of her mind she thinks about a pair of eyes so like the ocean, deeper than indigo but somehow glistening like sunlight through the surface.

Everything is quiet for one, two, three beats of nothing but freedom, and then her music begins. She falls easily into her routine, dancing so light on her toes she nearly glides over the surface, a siren of movement. She tucks herself into the corner of the mat and takes a deep breath, preparing for a heavily loaded first pass that she executes perfectly, sticking the landing. She doesn’t know if the crowd applauds, or what the changes on the judges’ faces might be. She continues to move, to dance, to breathe; she lines herself up diagonally for another tricky pass and only has a slight hop after it’s landing.

She drops low to perform a steady Wolf Turn, no sign of nerves or quakes in her body. When she bounces back up to her full height and tucks herself back into the corner of the mat, her focus constricts and her whole world becomes entirely about this third pass. She takes a deep breath and thinks, _just like in practice_ , and she _moves_.

She starts with a roundoff, moves quickly into a one-and-a-half stepout followed by another roundoff with a connected back handspring before finishing it off with a tricky arabian double front that she connects to a single, final layout. And she _sticks it_. The smile that breaks out across her face shatters every ounce of her contained joy; she can’t help but to express it, not with the music and the exultation of nailing something so incredibly difficult after practicing it for so long.

She feels lighter, the reward of true joy, and it makes her final and extremely difficult pass feel easy. She’s nearly buoyant as she executes it, her body sailing through the air in bounds and leaps and twists, sticking her final landing without even a quiver. She doesn’t even remember the last of her dancing or the moment the music stops and the crowd returns as a presence in her focus anymore; all she remembers is the specific rhythm of her heart racing in her chest and her own voice saying, _I have done well_.

Her coach echoes the sentiment the moment she’s on the sidelines again, time seeming to race by her. Her teammates are further echoes, and somewhere in the stands it’s like she can _feel_ Naruto watching her.

Her carefree joy does not last long; she has just completed the best floor performance she’s ever had in her life, and all of her euphoria because of it melts away the moment she’s standing in front of the uneven bars.

It’s her final event and her turn comes around quicker than she could ever prepare for—but she has prepared for this, for years, for her entire life.

She stands underneath them and she bows her head for just a moment, trying to regain her confidence and her certainty. Her heart races a new and different beat, with less freedom for joy and much more room for fear, a jagged and jaded fluctuation. She swallows, and then she takes a moment to glance up into the crowds.

There’s no way for her to know where he is, or to find him. The lights are so bright it’s difficult to make out any faces, let alone distinct features. But she can feel him—she knows this level of focus, has felt it on her before while she practiced in the gym an innumerable amount of times, all leading up to this day.

And this moment.

She can feel the heat of his gaze, somewhere out in the sea of strangers.

And it warms her.

She looks forward, back at the bars in front of her, and she smiles.

“Just breathe,” she says to herself, uncaring of the cameras aimed in her direction. “Just breathe.”

She signals that she’s ready to begin, and Kurenai’s hands lift her from the waist up to the bar. She gets her grip steady and immediately begins her routine, her heart settling back into something of a drum line of focus, not one beat out of place. She feels herself arcing through the air and it makes her feel powerful, untouchable.

Every one of her skills ends in a perfect handstand, and she makes certain of it. She flies from one bar to the other, and her heart quickens in her chest when her hands find purchase.

The noise of the crowd and the other gymnasts and every breath of possibility in the air silences, and all she can hear is the twisting of her hands on the bars, and Naruto’s voice, warm and confident.

_Just breathe_ , it says, _and fly_.

She builds momentum and prepares for her first critical skill, her heart suddenly thundering, her entire bodying heating with increased blood flow.

For only a moment, in the under arching swing leading up to her first Tkatchev she fears the heat and thinks of Icarus and she can’t breathe, she can’t _breathe_ —

But the heat under her skin isn’t the sun, and she is not going to fail.

_Just breathe_ , the voice says, and it’s warm, too. A sun inside her mind, a sun inside her heart—

She smiles, and her body soars straight up into the air, her legs coming up without a single bend, her ankles and her feet poised and pointed, and her hands reach out and catch the bar without a chance of letting go. It’s the first of several difficult skills, but the fear she’d felt for them washes away as she builds momentum and breathes and finds the bar and _flies_.

She builds speed for her last skill before she can dismount, a Geinger that means she’s going to have to throw herself into the air and twist her entire body around midair to face the opposite direction, before catching the bar one last time.

She feels the weight of her body tearing through the air, making a space for her where before there’d been none, and there is no fear in her. She uses every last bit of strength and drive that she has in her and throws herself towards the lights, losing sight of anything but the white-hot glare of them overhead. Time seems to slow around her, the only sound in the room her heart like a cascade of wings as her body twists and twists, and she’s flying towards the sun.

The heat doesn’t scare her, anymore.

She steadies in the air and she can see the bar in front of her, so close, so _close_ —her hands reach, no bend in her elbows, and the world around her is white light, white light—

The fingertips of failure reach for her and burn away against the heat of her skin, and the power of her determination.

Her fingers like talons like _certainty_ wrap perfectly around the bar, a symphony of ten finger-thick beats, all clasping in sync.

 

✧

 

Naruto’s floor routine is his last event for the men’s all-around finals, and he steals the breath of every person in the room before he even completes his first pass.

He is flickering fire over a rushing sea, his every movement smooth enough to sear to a _crisp_. Hinata watches him, flames on the horizon, at once as bright and golden as the lights overhead as he is the depthless surface of the ocean, shifting in shades of cyan under sunlight.

The entirety of the arena focuses in on his performance, drawn to him, moths to his flame. There isn’t a single aspect of Naruto or his routine that is anything but extraordinary; the difficulty of his passes, the impeccable height he somehow manages to reach even with such a thickly muscled body, and the effortless way he soars through the air in perfect arcs.

He sticks his every landing, and he breaks his own record.

16.000.

For the life of her, Hinata cannot feel disappointed with the silver she has tucked so carefully away in her hotel room.

All of the lights had always found her cousin, and left her wide-eyed and hopeful in the shadows behind him. But now she is the second best all-around Olympic female gymnast in the entire world. And she _earned_ it.

What is there to be disappointed about?

Hinata didn’t get gold.

But when she looks on at Naruto—biting the edge of his first place medal, the lights bending to intersect over his head, getting caught like halos made of stars in the flicker of his joy as he looks through the crowds and finds _her_ —

She thinks that she has something far, far more incredible 

And it shines brighter than gold.

 

✧

 

(There is more time yet for them to grow; silver and gold, silver and gold.)

(Together.)


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: (You get to choose the POV) I like the sound of your heartbeat; your pulse is pushing against me. I'm good when you are around.  
> Rating: _General Audiences_.

There’s a saying: _home is where the heart is_.

It’s a sentiment that got passed down through generations, simple and pedestrian. When he used to hear it in passing, when he walked alone through the indolent streets of Konoha’s emptying twilight markets, he would pointedly ignore it.

It was never easy for him to think of home, and less easy still to mitigate his own feelings and come to a conclusion beyond passionate confusion. It wasn’t until Iruka-sensei that Naruto started to think about it, to understand, to want to say it.

“Home is where the heart is, after all,” he’d say jauntily, smiling so wide his eyes creased shut as Sakura cocked her head at him in equal parts puzzlement and curiosity. He could remember Kakashi’s face, too the forced absence of a reaction. But he’d turned without any doubt or regret, spinning on his heel and heading for the apartment Iruka had purchased only a few weeks prior—one with two bedrooms, instead of one.

Over the years, Naruto learned a lot about home.

Konoha was as much a home to him as his place in Iruka-sensei’s— _their_ —apartment had been until he’d grown old enough for his own, and his heart had always belonged there, hidden in the leaves. But he learned this, too: that his heart was a restless companion, yawning and stretching and ever hungry. It seemed at times so full it would burst, yet when dusk melted the sky into easy tones of lavender solemnity, he’d find his heart wanting.

An insatiable quest for love he couldn’t pinpoint. His heart wasn’t the kind to settle down, to grow complacent within the walls of his home village, or under the comforting palm that Iruka-sensei so fondly rested over his shoulders when they walked to Ichiraku to share a meal. It never settled no matter how many friends he made or how many villages opened their gates to him with documents fledged in silken ink curled around the words _peace treaty_.

When he was a young man just returned from war, his heart would beat so fast at night he’d think about taking himself to Sakura, because she was better than the hospital and less inclined to send him away than Tsunade would be, though by an admittedly faint margin.

He’d find himself sitting under the calm breeze of summer trees trickling under the moon, tickling his skin, and his heart would rage against his ribcage. He’d reach up and dig his fingertips into the skin of his chest and wonder why it would not settle, then or ever, and his hands shook.

_Anxiety_ , Sakura would later tell him so quietly, so carefully, as though edging around feelings he didn’t even yet recognize in himself.

As it seemed, anxiety was the drug kick-starting his heart into a hummingbird’s flutter, a restive machine repeatedly jumped. In the moments under the light of the moon with the pane of his window stiff enough to give him small aches in his tailbone, Naruto began to understand the mechanics of anxiety.

The reason for it, however, evaded him for many years until his middle adulthood.

He never understood what had he to be anxious about. Even with missions and battles and occasional village disagreements, Konoha and his family and his friends were all as safe as a shinobi could be (which admittedly wasn’t very safe at all, though safer than it had once been), _he_ was safe, and there was nothing in the world that seemed enough of an uncertainty to shake him. Sasuke was still out there in the world, sure, but Naruto had always known that he was going to find him. He wasn’t concerned about that anymore—Sasuke could take care of himself, and when the time was right, Naruto would bring him back home.

When he was just a boy and the village scorned and loathed him, Naruto had learned quickly how to make a home out of discomfort. Anxiety became nothing more than another gear in his system, tick, tick, ticking away with every tremor and sudden gasp of breath. He decided to live with it, to recognize the sharp turn of his heart rate when the world shifted on him and certainty became a fickle rejoinder he could barely remember. He allowed the world to close in on him, a cage he called home, and this was a different kind of battle.

And Naruto had never been one to back down from a challenge.

He would not let anxiety make a prison out of his world, his body, his mind. He would not let anxiety control him, in just the same way that he would not let the darkness inside of his mind overwhelm him. If he could talk it out and befriend Kurama, he could put anxiety in it’s place, too.

At least, usually; anxiety did not talk back, wasn’t receptive to persuasion or distraction. It remained and was relentless, and sometimes it won.

Naruto’s shoulders caved in, curling around him protectively as his hands moved to cover his face. He rested his knuckles on the backs of his bent knees, and tried to breathe through the constricting grip anxiety currently had on his throat, making him breathless.

The door to his apartment opened, and the breeze moved through his home like an old friend; it knew all of his hallways and rooms, the crack in the plaster near his bed frame and the small bit of soil that had spilled from the only plant he’d ever tried to take care of, sitting on the kitchen table. It found him easily enough, a familiar sight in the open window, and it moved over him with equal parts welcome and dismissal as he felt it rejoin the night sky.

“I’m home,” a voice called, soft and fleeting, and Naruto’s heart stumbled over its competitive pace.

Just like the breeze, Hinata moved through his apartment with familiarity. She settled her things by the door, toeing off her sandals and her Jonin vest. She moved through the place until he could hear her footsteps—faint as distant tides pressing up against distant shores. He looked up at last when he could almost feel the heat of her, unable to resist greeting her.

He smiled, and it was real enough to show her every exposed nerve he had been trying to tame for the past hour.

“Welcome home,” he said, and his heart tripped on the latter.

She nodded her head, accepting but not saying a word, and reached a hand out to him, beckoning. He took it instantly, without hesitation, unfolding from the window until he stood completely and Hinata had to tilt her head to meet his gaze.

This, he thought, was easy. He tugged gently on her hand, pulling her against his chest. His bandaged fingers came up instantly to thread through her hair, his free hand resting on her shoulder blade. He pressed his lips to her temple, eyes sliding shut, and nosed at her hair. He listened to her sigh against him, every tense line of her melting into him.

The tip of her nose pressed against the skin of his chest, and her right hand spread out over his heart. It was warm.

“Breathe,” she whispered, and Naruto nodded slowly against her, taking her quiet advice. He breathed against her, bending down further until his lips could press soft as butterfly wings against her throat.

He felt her pulse, tap, tap, tapping away from under her skin, and it was quick but not _racing_. He knew from experience that the quickness was nerves, that she was shy and no matter how long they spent together his embrace would always feel new to her. Unexpected. He made her heart race, one of his favorite things, and he found after many years of pulling her into the shelter of his arms, the open cavern of his chest, that he found comfort in the simple proof of her existence.

The sound of her heartbeat moved through him, and without any conscious change in either of them, his heartbeat began to slow. They stayed there, wrapped up in each other with no witness to their intimacy but the stars and the sky, and their shared love soothed and excited in just the right spots. He felt her pulse pushing against him, listened to the sound of her heartbeat gradually calming alongside his own.

And it was easy, in just the same way that it always was; in a body, mind, and world that loved so greatly the woman in his arms, Naruto had no room for anxiety.

She was his favorite place to come home, the only place his heart ever truly calmed.

_I’m good when you’re around_ , he thought, and Hinata pressed forward just enough to kiss the skin of his chest, just under his collarbone.

“It feels good to be home,” she whispered, and allowed her arms to slide around him, tugging him into the unwavering protection of her loving embrace. She rested her head against his chest, listening to his heart.

And with Hinata there in his arms, his restless heart settled.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Naruto and Hinata get into a fight.  
> Rating: _Teen and Up Audiences_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please gaze lovingly at this incredibly powerful and beautiful art that [hinaxnaru](http://hinaxnaru.tumblr.com/) created for this fic [here](http://hinaxnaru.tumblr.com/post/155895831848/naruhina-week-day-3-im-sorry-a-scene-from-this)!!! Thank you so much, I love it more than I can ever express and I am so flattered you would even take the time to want to create something for one of my stories!! ♥

“You _buffoon_ ,” Sakura snapped, with a sharpness to her tone that immediately had Naruto bringing his hands up defensively. “How senseless can you be? I mean really!”

“Sakura-chan,” Naruto began, but Sakura wasn’t done with him yet. She paced after him, matched him step for step, and Naruto found himself cornered rather quickly against a nearby building. The entire street was filled with people, filled to bursting, but Sakura wasn’t hindered in the slightest. Not even when people began to stop and watch, equal parts amused and curious. She jabbed her finger into his chest and Naruto spared a moment to silently thank whoever was listening that there’d been no chakra behind the gesture.

“How many times do I have to tell you before it makes it through that _thick skull of yours_ ,” she growled and Naruto laughed, jittery and nervous but unable to take the threat of her completely seriously. It’s not that he doubted she would harm him—just as soon as she would then heal him—because he knew better than _that_. It’s more the fact that he just never really recognized self-preservation when he should, and when he finally _did_ , it was usually too late already.

“Sakura-chan—”

“You know,” she continued on her rampage, strong in her stride. “One day she’s not going to forgive you, you know? Is that what you want? To lose her, after you worked so hard to get her?”

Sakura had always been good at threats, and this time was no different. Naruto’s expression slipped and sharpened in a blink, and his wide shoulders tensed under the strain of sudden solemnity. Sakura didn’t back down, even as a slow rumbling began in his chest and boiled from between his teeth in the only guttural response he could give.

Anger turned him molten, slow moving but savage and when he spoke it was with a snarl.

“ _No_.”

Sakura did not cut him any slack, her features and her shoulders as strict and cutting as they always were when she taught him a lesson she thought he should’ve already learned. She crossed her arms over her chest and though her upper body strength was tremendous, it didn’t show in the way that it did on Tenten’s frame; all chiseled muscle, hard and cut. Sakura had a deceptive softness to her that made foolish people underestimate her, and it’d been a long, long time since Naruto was foolish enough to be among those ranks.

“You sure?” Sakura goaded him, tone mocking. Her voice held nothing but barbed intent, and that’s how he knew that she was serious. Sometimes, when she taught him hard lessons, exasperated amusement would trickle into the end of her teaching and he’d find himself let off a little easier than he otherwise might’ve been.

Not today, though.

“ _Yes_ ,” he said, through gritted teeth. “I’m _serious_.”

“Then prove it,” she said, and finally took a step back from him, out of his personal space. He allowed himself to unfurl away from the brick at his back, stepping once after her just to prove that he wasn’t to be cowed. With one last parting glance, he lifted his hands into a familiar jutsu and disappeared before Sakura could do anything else, like punch him through a building.

Or three.

Usually, it’s not difficult for Naruto to find Hinata, regardless of where she was in the village. She had her usual haunts, her favorite places, and a few hideouts that only her precious people were privy too. And usually, Naruto could count himself amongst one other who was precious enough to the Hyuuga heiress to know every single one of them.

So when he searched high and low for the better half of the day and visited every spot on his mental checklist and still wasn’t able to find so much as a strand of her chakra or even her hair, he started to grow frustrated.

_Really_ frustrated.

This was why he found himself pushing open the massive doors to Tenten’s personal training arena, which Gai-sensei and Lee had built themselves several years back. He moved unerringly through the doorway and barged straight into what appeared to be Tenten and Neji trying valiantly to systematically obliterate the other.

Naruto didn’t even hesitate before stepping in-between them, gentle fists and battle axes be damned.

Tenten altered the trajectory of one battle axe at the very last minute upon seeing Naruto right where her intended target had been just a moment prior—the target being Neji’s _head_. Neji made evading Naruto look quick and easy with a high twisting somersault over his head, but when Naruto glanced over to find him standing beside Tenten there was a gleam in his eyes that was a mixture of annoyance and relief.

“What the hell is your problem?” Tenten snapped, allowing her axe to fall heavily with the help of gravity, until it buried itself halfway into the dirt beneath their feet. Neji eyed it speculatively, and Naruto thought he might have seen him swallow just then. “You trying to get yourself killed?”

Naruto rolled his eyes, any and all traces of self-preservation still buried way too deeply for his own good. “Of course not. I’m looking for Hinata.”

He spoke to Tenten, but his eyes leapt to Neji immediately, focusing in with pinprick pupils as the taller of the two straightened. He let nothing of his reaction show on his face, merely blinked at Naruto and exuded the same annoying level of arrogance that Naruto was used to from him. Naruto narrowed his eyes.

“She could be anywhere,” Tenten said, and her tone, too, was cool and untouchable. A sudden and sharp difference from the wildness of her initial reaction to his presence in her arena…and Naruto might not be very fond of mind games, at all, but he had grown up alongside Uchiha Sasuke and Haruno Sakura under _Hatake Kakashi’s_ tutelage.

He’d learned a thing or two about mind games and subtlety along the way.

“If you had to guess,” Naruto moved forward, relentless and intentional. He flicked his gaze to watch Tenten’s face, knowing that she was more likely to give away a clue than Neji and his mask of apathy. He watched her carefully as he asked, “Where would you place her?”

Neji spoke before Tenten could, but Naruto’s eyes didn’t move. “Hard to say. It’s a rather large village, after all.”

How trite, Naruto thought, and somehow the words sounded faintly like Sasuke’s. Of the people who knew _every_ spot on Hinata’s list, Neji was the only other person besides Naruto himself.

So if he was going to underestimate Naruto’s capacity to play a hand in this game, then Naruto didn’t have the time for him at all.

“It’s spring,” Tenten surmised, tilting her head and studying the taut lines of Naruto’s frame. “Hinata does so enjoy the Yamanaka gardens this time of year.”

_Been there_ , Naruto thought, _checked that_.

In fact, that had been one of his first stops, considering he could kill two birds with one stone if he found Yamanaka Ino there. And he had, though she had been about as forthcoming as a pile of stone, making her allegiance to Hinata and her secrecy well and truly known, even in the face of Hinata’s own fiancé. She _had_ mentioned something about Hinata wanting to sharpen her edges a bit, which is one of the main reasons that Naruto had headed immediately to Tenten’s arena, however.

And before Ino, Nara Shikaku had crossed Naruto’s path and mentioned something about it being a troublesome time of year, with so much pollen, so many flowers. Normally, Naruto would have thought nothing of such an offhanded comment; especially from someone Naruto considered even more confusing than Shikamaru.

But then he’d added, almost as a deliberate afterthought: _Shame if Hinata-chan’s allergies act up again._

And that had been moments before he ran into Sakura. _  
_

A singular line had begun to connect the dots in his mind and Naruto straightened with sudden realization, teeth grinding together. He was being led in circles.

Kurama’s voice leaked into the tempest of Naruto’s frantically racing thoughts, growling two simple words in a different shade of Naruto’s voice, so that they sounded like Naruto’s own thoughts.

_Tell me_.

It had been a long time since Kurama had festered like this, and longer still since he had purposely tried to interfere with Naruto’s control. He knew better than that, and Naruto was quick to silence him with a gentle but stern reprimand. The heavy presence of Kurama settled back in, quieting to a low rumble, and the control Naruto had exerted to calm the fox managed to work the same kind of magic on him, too.  

Instead of fisting his hands at his sides and snapping, Naruto took a deep breath and forced himself to stand up straight, push his shoulders back, _relax_. There was no point to running in circles, asking his friends for help in finding the woman he loved, because they were her friends _too_.

And he had hurt her.

He didn’t blame them for choosing her side—he understood, and he accepted.

But he couldn’t make things right if he couldn’t find her. He needed to apologize to her. It was, in that moment, the single most important thing in his world: the need to look into Hinata’s seeing glass eyes and tell her sincerely that he was _sorry_.

“Fine,” he said, still festering under the surface, but contained. “Don’t tell me where she is. But if you see her, tell her I’m looking for her. Tell her I have to talk to her.”

Neji’s blank expression never broke, and Tenten merely crossed her arms over her chest, lithe muscles rippling. Naruto nodded, accepting once more, and missed the subtle softening of Tenten’s expression as he turned on his heel and headed out of the arena. Before he made it completely to the door, his hands on the frame, he turned over his shoulder and said, “Ah, also. Sorry to interrupt your training.”

He flickered and disappeared, and in the sudden lapse of his presence Tenten turned to Neji and snorted.

“Uzumaki Naruto, remembering his manners,” she said, lips kicking up into a smile as Neji glanced down at her. Tenten elbowed him in the side, laughing. “Hinata’s influence truly is incredible.”

 

✧

 

Just because he wasn’t going to get any help from their friends didn’t mean that he was going to give up looking for her; after all, he was still one of Konoha’s most stubborn shinobi, with the strongest and most relentless of wills.

Regardless, the sun chased him all the way across the sky until it tired and tucked itself away behind the mountains, and Naruto, too, retired to his apartment.

On the third step leading up to his tiny veranda, he felt the sudden presence of chakra from within his home. He wasted no time in dashing up the rest of the stairs and bursting through the doorway, wide eyes surveying the front room until they found her, tracing over every inch of her that he could see, cataloguing every minute change from the last time they’d faced each other.

“Hinata,” He gasped, and could not have cared less about the way his voice trembled. His body ached, not so much from physical exertion but from an emotional lapse, a heart bent on breaking, and an endless search he thought would never end.

Hinata turned from his mantle where she had been fingering one of his framed photos, and cast her heavy eyes over his haggard appearance. He took a single step inside, slid the door shut behind him. He watched her carefully, when all he really wanted was to rush to her side, to fold her into the waiting and welcoming heat of his arms. He wanted to press kisses to her temples, her cheeks, tug lightly at her ear, silently and playfully asking for forgiveness. He wanted to touch her.

He didn’t move, barely breathed. He let her set the rules, the pace, the proceedings. He watched her set the frame back down and noticed offhandedly that it was his genin team’s first group shot, when they were just kids. She opened herself to him in a single step, though the lines of her shoulders were still caged and defensive, just as they had been when she’d walked away from him the week before. But she faced him, didn’t back down from his focused stare, or the way that he couldn’t help but to allow himself to trail his eyes over every inch of her, a man starved and saved in an instant.

“Naruto-kun,” she began, and her voice was that controlled kind of softness that meant he was still in trouble. Not her usual soft tones, fluid and warm and everything he could let himself drown in with pleasure. No, not that kind.

This was an indolent tone belying an undercurrent of danger, a beautifully veiled trap. It matched the casual stance she held, though her shoulders broke the mold and exposed some of her vulnerability to him. He knew that she allowed it, this glimpse past her anger. Her stance reminded him of Sasuke’s bastard older brother, and the way he sometimes became so still that the air around him froze, too.

Naruto swallowed.

“I hear you’ve had a busy day,” Hinata said at last, tilting her head.

“It was nothing,” he said, hoping that she’d understand that what he meant was that it had been nothing because he’d _found_ her. Or, technically he supposed that she had found him. Cornered him, rather.

He was getting that a lot today.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered suddenly, the words nearly gushing from him. It was obvious that she knew he’d been looking for her all day, and it didn’t _matter_ that he’d nearly exhausted himself doing so, or that he’d been so worried his heart had felt ready to fall through his feet by the time he felt her chakra within his home. All that mattered was that she was here, and he had to make it right again. “I need to talk to you.”

“Do you?” She challenged, eyebrows rising, and Naruto fumbled his own heartbeat.

“Yeah,” he insisted, taking another step towards her. “Yeah, I do.”

The corners of Hinata’s eyes narrowed, and just like that, Naruto stopped in his tracks, frozen to the spot. His heart raced, thundering against his rib cage, the only part of him he felt moving.

“Have you considered,” Hinata began again, shifting her weight so subtly Naruto almost missed it. Even as she glared at him, receiving him with an icy refusal to allow him anywhere near her, he couldn’t help but to admire her. His eyes shifted over her and chills raced down his spine as he saw the steel in her, in the way she demanded respect from him. He had to put actual effort into keeping a smile from his face as he considered what his teammate’s reactions would be if they knew how formidable an opponent Hinata could be, in terms of mental warfare. Hell, he thought, she might even give Sasuke’s icy family members a run for their money. “That I might not want to speak with you?”

Naruto studied her, eyes flashing. He didn’t say anything about her being in his apartment, so clearly waiting for him. He only said, “You don’t?”

Hinata’s eyes dropped, her eyelashes casting shadows over her cheeks, hiding her expression. Naruto risked another step forward, even when she glanced back up at him and her stare pierced right through him.

“I know I’ve hurt you,” he said lowly, voice fractured. “Last week…I messed up, Hinata.”

“A singular occurrence,” she whispered, and Naruto didn’t understand. Her eyes met his again and held, and he was frustrated at his own inability to understand. “As though you have done one thing, and that is all.”

Naruto frowned, shoulders caving in. “I don’t understand.”

“Before I agreed to marry you,” she began suddenly, shifting tactics. “Do you remember what I told you I needed?”

Naruto lifted a hand to scratch at the nape of his neck, his expression pinching as he tried to remember exactly what she’d said in that moment. It was difficult for him to remember much of the words in that memory, beyond the fact that she had said _yes_. Mostly, he remembered the gentleness of her expression, and the way that the sun had ascended behind her, casting her in every shade of promise. He closed his eyes and he could remember the way the wind picked up the tails of her hair, and how he’d moved forward and tucked it all away behind her ears, holding her face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together.

Pressing their smiles together in a kiss.

Remembering the finer details of that memory brought with it new clarity, and suddenly Naruto _did_ remember.

“Partnership,” he answered, eyes slowly coming open. Something infinitesimal in her expression shifted, but it was so quick Naruto couldn’t catch it.

“Yes,” she agreed. “I wanted you to promise me that we would be equals.”

“We are,” he blurted immediately, heart still racing, though suddenly with a frantic edge to it. “Hinata, _of course_ we are.”

“Of course,” she repeated, testing the words within the confines of her voice. “Forgive my rudeness, Naruto-kun, but I disagree.”

Naruto felt fractured, raw. Her utter lack of emotion reminded him of Sasuke when something hurt him, usually his clan, and he covered the hurt with anger that pushed through the cracks of a mask of apathy. It was not a look he had ever wanted to see on Hinata’s face, and it was only then that he started to realize just how much he had hurt her.

“Explain it to me,” he implored, and though he felt close to shattering his voice was steady, stern. “I need to understand, so I can fix it.”

Something gentle flickered across her eyes, dangerously close to affection, before she swept it away in the next second. “Some things cannot be fixed.”

“But this can,” he said with certainty, lifting his chin.

His refusal to give up on them was rewarded with a fine tick in the corner of her lips, a fractured smile to match the jagged edges of his frayed emotional control.

“You are a Hokage candidate,” Hinata said, and Naruto tried not to be rocked by the sudden and bizarre change in topic. “I have stood by you, advised you, encouraged you. You’ve been preparing for this your entire life, and still I wanted to be by your side to support you.”

“And you have,” he responded easily, confused. He took another step towards her, and she was almost within his reach, so close he could smell the traces of lavender on her skin. “I never would have made it this far along without you there to help me. I need you with me. It’s just like you said, we’re _partners._ ”

Just one more step—

Hinata’s eyes narrowed at the corners, and everything in Naruto _stilled._ His mouth went dry, and her chin lifted.

“Then where have you been?” Her tone washed over him in frigid reprimand, tone trembling only slightly in the undercurrent. “I am to take over my clan in less than a month. Where have you been?”

Naruto’s spine snapped straight until his shoulders were thrust back and his chest ached thrice over, his mouth falling open in sudden understanding. But Hinata, usually so quiet and reticent, was not finished.

“I do not require you to be invested in the politics of my clan until you have the title of Nanadaime before your name,” she explained, “but as my _partner_ , you should be _present_ with me when I seek your advice on the matter.”

Naruto remained stock still, unmoving. He watched Hinata’s features, and the way that she finally allowed emotions to flit across her face. Shame curled through him, and the memories of Hinata seeking his advice on the topic coiled behind his eyes. He flinched when he remembered his careless rebuffs, claiming only that he would support her in whatever she wanted, but that he knew nothing of clans.

It was true that she had been supporting him the whole way through, even before he had returned her feelings. She had always been an incredible friend to him, invested in his care, really thinking things through to give him a complete answer when he sought her out for advice. And then later, when they had been together long enough to know every secret in every line of one another’s skin, she had still been there beside him, supporting him. She stood by him when the counsel argued against him to Tsunade, and had held steady when they turned her under direct fire as a future clan leader who would have to deal with him politically.

And yet he had done nothing more than offer her false reassurances for her coming role as the leader of her clan, simply because he didn’t understand the politics, and didn’t think to try.

The weight of this realization crushed him, bent his shoulders into a hunch and made him duck his head low. He realized that she must have been living under this weight for some time now, and he almost didn’t want to consider for how long. He’d thought that he had been growing, so happy to have her at his side, but he was a fool.

She had demanded a partnership.

And he had only been focusing on himself.

“Hinata,” he breathed, and suddenly a simple apology didn’t feel like it would be _enough_. How was he ever going to apologize for this?

Hinata’s tone gentled. She said, “I understand if you have felt uncertain. It is difficult to understand clan politics when you are raised outside of their restrictions.”

But Naruto watched the steel of her spine reform itself, and her next words were steady and unflinching. “But I will not give my everything to someone who won’t give theirs in return, Naruto-kun. I will not settle for less than the partnership you promised me.”

And then, with fire: “ _I_ stand by what I say. _Will you_?”

Naruto’s heart thudded, a one-two beat against his chest, and admiration for her bubbled up through his veins. He stood there in silence and gazed at her with open admiration and a little bit of heat that he couldn’t keep from his eyes. This was the strength of character that Naruto had always admired in her, the gentleness that resided even amidst the unbending iron of her will. That she would stand before him, the boy she had always loved grown into the man she freely offered her heart, and _demand_ that he respect her…chills raced down his spine, and his eyes became heavier with exposed heat.

He took that last step towards her even when her expression grew another edge towards foreboding, and allowed his hands to slide over her shoulders, fingers delving into her hair. He pulled her against him even as her hands remained at her sides, stubbornly holding her ground. That was fine with him—this wasn’t a trick, he wasn’t trying to win her over with affection.

He had just always communicated better with touch.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, lips close enough to nearly touch her ear. His cheek pressed to hers and his hand held the back of her head so that she was tucked gently against him, her nose just barely touching the hinge of his jaw. “I understand. I get it. And I’m sorry.”

He warred with himself in those next few moments, about whether or not he had the right to ask how long this had been going on. He didn’t want to know because it frightened him, this careless side of him he hadn’t known. But he wasn’t a coward, and he didn’t run from his demons anymore. He faced them.

But this wasn’t about _him_ , and the reminder of that was what held his tongue. Making her say the words would do nothing to help her, so he remained silent, and held her as close to him as she allowed.

“Hey, Hinata,” he whispered against her hair, and he felt her hands lift only slightly, just enough to grasp the hem of his jacket. “I’m gonna try my best not to ever put you in this position again. I’m gonna do everything in my power to make sure of it. I keep my promises.”

The last was a sharp self-imposed reprimand against her shoulder, as he tucked his nose in against her throat. Hinata’s hands moved up, then, sliding around his back and pulling him in closer to her. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes as she breathed against him and he was reminded of her gentle nature, more loving than he would probably ever deserve.

She pressed her lips against his throat, the sweetest forgiveness. “I’ll hold you to it.”

“Sorry to say this so late,” he started, his mood turning from the shame he knew he wouldn’t be rid of for many, many weeks to the light humor that he had taught himself to survive with as an orphan. “But you’re going to have to work hard with me. I’m a moron after all.”

Hinata pulled back, fingers leaving his back to come up and grasp his cheeks until he was staring into her steady eyes.

“You are not a moron, Uzumaki Naruto,” she said, and then the corner of her lips kicked up in quiet delight. “But if I find you lacking on our agreement again…”

Hinata let her sentiment hang freely, and Naruto swallowed, the heavy click of the motion loud in the quiet air of his apartment. After a long moment, Hinata’s head dipped almost imperceptibly, and she slid her hands to the nape of his neck. She pulled him in and he went willingly, capturing her lips in his own, relishing in the sheer intensity of how much she loved him.

Naruto wanted to show her how much he loved her, too; deeply, endlessly, wildly. He pushed further into her space until they knocked against the wall, his chest pressed so tightly to hers that her shoulders were flat against the plaster. Hinata gasped into his mouth and he moved forward instantly to slide his tongue in, tracing the edges of her teeth in forgiveness.

He didn’t want her to misunderstand this, though. He may not be good at explaining things, but he’d been with Hinata long enough to know that communication was key, and that miscommunication could be downright lethal. So after he spent several long, diligent moments nipping at her bottom lip and sucking away the sting, he pulled back just enough to see the way her swollen lips trembled, and starlight caught in her eyes.

“This isn’t bribery,” he said, mentally cursing himself for being so unclear. “I mean, I’m not trying to win you over or anything with this, okay? This is just…me. Loving you.”

Hinata studied his expression for several moments, her fingertips playing with the long tendrils of hair by his ears, gently massaging the delicate skin there. Naruto held himself as steady as he could over her, coiled with heat and anticipation, but unwilling to press on without her consent. Finally, she nodded, a simple and slow acceptance.

And it was easy, to move back in, to capture her lips with his own and show her how much he loved her with the insistence of his mouth pressing against hers, the drag of calluses on his hands, moving over the skin of her hips.

The sincerity of feeling in the racing of his honest pulse.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: teacher/student prompt maybe? I don't know who would be the teacher though... Maybe do both versions?  
> Rating: _Teen and Up Audiences._

There was something so intrinsically beautiful in being able to create something with his hands. To be able to shape something into something else, something entirely his own, changing the entire reality of what he held and touched into something that felt less like substance and more like being.

Uzumaki Naruto could not remember the first time he learned to love to build, to make something from nothing; to foster, where he had never been fostered. It probably wasn’t that deep, though, he thought grumpily as he moved through the doorway to his first course of the semester and found a seat in the back. Or maybe it was, he reflected, thinking of Sakura pursuing her degree in psychology and relentlessly analyzing anyone within arm’s reach of her. He slumped over immediately, rubbing at the bags under his eyes before allowing his forehead to fall against the wood of his table.

He had spent his summer working three jobs and none of them forgiving on his body, or his mind. Physical labor was his go-to, because he was strong—stronger than most. But working towards a degree in architectural design meant he had to put his brain to work, too, and he wasn’t about to slack off when he was so close to reaching his goal. Sakura would never let him, anyways; she knew how hard he’d worked to get here, to make it to higher education.

His fingers tapped a jagged rhythm only he knew, itching for something he couldn’t even conjure. All he knew was that this part of education was so boring—lectures might give him the knowledge for the skills he’d need but he could already see the designs in his mind, glowing effervescent against the shadows tucked against the insides of his skull. Building plans itching to be put into action, layouts that were compact but breathable, structures that were affordable for low socioeconomic status areas like the one he’d grown up in. He had the passion, the ideas, and the determination to make it happen.

And now he just needed the education, so that he could do it right.

And so he could deal with the legislation of the thing, but that was for another day.

Naruto yawned, a lion’s halfhearted roar as someone sat down beside him. He glanced over with a careless half-smile, friendly even while exhausted, and flicked a glance at his watch. His eyes followed the tick, tick, ticking of the minute hand as he wondered what kind of professor they’d have, and if they were someone he’d seen around campus. He dreaded the start of the class, even as he wanted it to be over.

It wasn’t that the subject wasn’t interesting, exactly the opposite in fact, but that he just hated having to sit still for such long periods of time, testing only his brain. He’d much rather test his strength, his hands, the challenge of creating—but first he’d have to wait. To sit and to learn, regardless of whether or not this class was going to bore him to tears. He really, really hoped that it wouldn’t—that whoever the professor was, they’d make it interesting enough to keep his attention.

He glanced up as the front door slid open, and his eyes held.

She moved with casual grace, her bright eyes turning to survey the depths of her classroom with a practiced kind of curiosity. His heart was loud in his ears, suddenly, and he frowned at the reaction. He lifted a hand up to his chest, fingertips pressing. She set a multitude of folders and a single binder on her desk and turned to the whiteboard behind her, and Naruto watched the seamless elegance of her wrist shift to guide her fingers in writing her name in stark black marker.

Professor Hyuuga Hinata.

She certainly had his attention.

 

✧

 

Naruto became a paragon of studiousness, with a single target as his goal of understanding.

Well, he sincerely hoped she was single.

“If you look here,” Hyuuga Hinata said, pointing to one section of hand-crafted plans she had drawn up herself, now being projected up onto the screen in the front of the room. “There’s a structural flaw, not in the building itself, but in the layout of the grounds.”

Naruto watched her lips move around the words, captivated. He’d long since given up his seat in the back of the room, choosing instead the aisle seat in the front row—so much the better option to gaze at Hinata more closely. He’d learned a lot about her in only a few weeks’ time, asking around where he thought was acceptable, of friends and of staff.

What he’d learned hardly surprised him—a prodigy, from a good strong family; graduated high school years early and was now well in the throes of grad school, this her first course completely her own.

His eyes flicked to her plans, with some effort, and he saw immediately the flaw she was hinting at. Her layout was beautiful, creative and efficient, but it was too closed off. There were too many open spaces, as if something within her had wanted more freedom.

He glanced back to her and watched the self-conscious way she tucked her hair behind her ear, and he was enamored. Even though she spoke in front of an entire lecture hall daily, still she remained shy and almost uncertain—not in the material, which she professed with an edge of pride that moved past efficiency and bordered on simple confidence—but in herself. Something about the way she moved, trying to make herself seem smaller, had Naruto tilting his head in curiosity.

He didn’t like it.

She never wore anything that molded to her form, but Naruto had a keen eye for his interests and he’d been shamelessly watching her for weeks. The subtle shift of material at one moment might hug a greatly rounded hip, or pull a little tight across her rear the next. Naruto felt his heart start to race when she turned back to her laptop and he saw her fingertips, long and lithe, moving easily over the keys.

He had thought about her hands relentlessly since the start of the semester, and it was strangely powerful how much he wanted her to touch him. Naruto was a physical person, more inclined to touch than to desire touch—and maybe that had roots in his past, too, a familiarity with reaching out because no one ever reached first—but with Hinata, it was quick and sudden in the way a storm sometimes could be.

He wanted her to touch him, just as much as he wanted to touch her.

He scrawled something like scribbles in his notebook, pretending to pay attention, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She avoided his gaze, almost intentionally, and Naruto had been wondering about that. Did he make her nervous? Was she aware of his unabated attention?

She glanced to him, then, catching his stare for a moment before flicking her eyes away. Her cheeks flared pink, and Naruto’s heard responded with fervor.

He swallowed and heard the tail end of her words as she brought the class to a close, wishing them all a good rest of their day.

It was easy to pretend to pack his things away slowly, until he was one of the last students in the room. He stood and slung his bag over his shoulder, tucking his hands into his pockets. When he moved around his table and approached her, he saw the way her shoulders tensed with obvious nerves. When she turned, a moment before he could say her name, as if she were so aware of his presence already she needn’t even be prompted to turn to him.

Her expression was still flushed, but it was open, and curious. There was no fear in her, though her shoulders remained tense, and Naruto understood that she was simply nervous.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Good class today.”

“You think so?” She asked, and the amused lilt of her tone had Naruto hesitating to answer. The corner of her lips kicked up and she added, “I was fairly certain you weren’t paying attention at all, Naruto-kun.”

Anyone else might have been aghast, might’ve tried to cover up their inconsistencies with little white lies. But Naruto wasn’t anyone else, and he was honest to a fault.

He lifted a hand from his pocket to rub idly at the back of his neck, messing with his hair and smiling unabashedly until his eyes crinkled.

He said, “Ah, you noticed, huh?”

He watched the slow shift in color over her face, until even the tips of her ears turned delicately pink. It was apparent that his sincerity had surprised her—that she’d been expecting him to react like anyone else would have.

He was ready to show her differently. He wanted to be more than just anyone to her.

He wanted to be someone important to her.

“Naruto-kun,” she whispered, and it was a gentle reprimand. Her voice spoke volumes, even so quietly, and it was telling. Naruto understood right then that Hinata was not unaware of his attention, hadn’t been for quite a while, and that she was hesitant to approach the reality of it. Naruto stepped closer to her, crowding her, and felt his skin heat when she didn’t step back. There were no other students left in the classroom, just the two of them, and Naruto couldn’t have stopped himself from reaching out to her.

He trailed his fingertips over the high curve of her cheekbone, feeling the heat there, and tucked a last strand of black hair behind her ear. He watched her lips fall open around a gasp, so breathtakingly quiet he almost missed it, and everything in him felt powerful. He let his fingertips trail down to the hinge of her jaw before falling away, returning to his side, tucking into a fist inside of his pocket for fear that he might reach again and not let go.

“Thanks for class today,” he said, tone unchanged, hiding the tremor that felt an awful lot like something powerful and warm gripping at his heart and his throat. “See you Wednesday.”

And he turned away from the shock of her expression, the brightness of her piercing stare that he could feel on his shoulders the entire way out of her classroom. He had to turn away, because if he didn’t, he wasn’t sure that he could stop himself from frightening her. His feelings had developed suddenly, an innocent kind of curiosity that sparked his interest and led to a wildfire raging under his skin, avid interest the least of what he felt for her.

Naruto turned down the hall and had to think about every step, so that he didn’t turn around and head right back to her, to see if her skin was as soft as it looked, her lips as kissable as he imagined.

Restraint, as it seemed, was his newest opponent.

 

✧

 

Naruto touched Hinata more and more after that; simple touches, trailing his fingers over her skin or reaching out to steady her when she stumbled. He walked with her after class now, and she let him. Sometimes he’d reach out and hold the back of her elbow, the furthest he thought she’d be comfortable with when in public. He wanted desperately to reach out for her tailbone, to press the width of his hands against her back and guide her along with him, right there beside him. He wanted to know what she felt like under his hands.

But Hinata was a shy creature, uncertain in the ways of affection, and that was equal parts frustrating and invigorating—that she wasn’t experienced with being wanted, and that he would be the one to show her the ropes. It excited him, made him look forward to waking up in the mornings when he knew they had class together.

Naruto was not unaware of the differences between their status, despite how often Sakura seemed to feel the need to remind him. He knew that it was taboo for a student and a teacher to get involved, at any level of education. There were obvious power differences, someone could get taken advantage of, and it didn’t matter that they were both adults. He knew it, and he had no misconceptions about it. He knew that it was considered wrong.

But he didn’t care. If it was a simple matter of finding Hinata attractive and wanting her, maybe that would be one thing and he could get it together and just ignore it. He had values, too, and he stuck with them wholeheartedly.

But he wanted so much more than to simply know her physically. He wanted to know what made her tick, what made her passionate, what she wanted most in life and how he could try to help her get to it. Somewhere between him reaching out to her that first time, feeling the heat of her cheek under his fingertips, and walking her to her car he had fallen in love with her.

And taboo or not, he wasn’t going to run from her.

He felt her shoulder brush against his arm, and he moved in even closer against her side. The hallways were crowded as ever, students walking past with arms full of books and binders, and it was easy to use the crowds as an excuse to feel the heat of her. Hinata didn’t shy away from him, only glanced up from under her lashes with the shyest of smiles, and a surprised breath slipped right through Naruto’s teeth.

They stepped into the sunlight and Naruto reached out to her hand, threading their fingers together as they stepped onto the asphalt, and Hinata did not pull away. Her fingers threaded around his, holding tightly, and when he cast his gaze back down to her he saw a trembling determination in her. Even while she shook, she would not back down.

He admired that; so much so that by the time they made it to her vehicle, he couldn’t help but to lean down and press a kiss to her temple, uncaring of who could see. He heard her gasp, and felt her fingers tighten around his own. She turned up to him, and there were walls in her expression he had seen her build, craftily and carefully.

But he had known her long enough now, well enough, to see through the architecture of her defenses—to the gaps of freedom she couldn’t help but to put in every plan. He moved into those spaces, filled them with himself, and hoped that he would become a kind of freedom she could love.

Hinata trembled as she said his name. He tilted his head down at her, watched the way the sun caught in the darkness of her hair and was held in the brightness of her eyes. It never failed to baffle him how every source of energy seemed to be drawn to her, in just the same way that he was—passionately, wholeheartedly.

Continuously.

“I know,” he said, tone low as he reached out with his free hand and traced the bow of her lower lip with his thumb. “I know what you’re thinking, what you’re gonna say. But I don’t care what people think. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t have feelings for you. I’m not gonna run.”

Hinata studied his expression critically, brows pursed, her eyes so heavy and uncertain it shook him. He didn’t move, however, didn’t want to push where she wasn’t willing to be pushed. He let her find whatever she was searching for in his expression and hoped that it led to something he could agree with, because if it didn’t?

Naruto didn’t know what he would do.

He watched her watching him, and it was an amusing turn in their relationship. She seemed to get the gist of his thoughts, then, too, and her lips curled around a wry smile. He was so used to being the one that gazed.

“Naruto-kun,” she began, and Naruto found himself straightening, wide shoulders thrust back far and wide. It was an unconscious gesture, making himself seem more opposing simply because he was afraid. Hinata did not shy away from it, or him. Instead, she reached out to him and traced the hard edge of his square jaw, fingertips so heartbreakingly gentle. She grasped his chin in her hands, dipping his face down so she could see every exposed facet of his expression with ease, her eyes missing nothing. “I like you.”

And then, right there in the university parking lot with students filtering in and out of campus all around them, she reached up onto the tips of her toes and pressed the gentlest of kisses against his lips. It was so light he could barely feel her lips there, and so quick he found himself trailing after her, bending to reach her and stopping when she shook her head and negated his movement.

With her fingers still holding his chin in her hand—the realization of this had Naruto’s head spinning, focusing so entirely on her hands and being held and this new and incredible warmth she had created in him through simple touch that he might have missed her next words entirely, if not for how jarring they were—she said, “But I will not compromise my career.”

Naruto didn’t move, not to breathe or to blink, and he watched the way she trailed her magnificent eyes over his features, searching for his response. After a long moment in which nothing but his heart seemed to move (harsh and fast and worried), she spoke once more.

“However, we share a similar mindset,” she said, and her smile was a slow-blooming spring over her deceptively calm expression, until all Naruto knew was that this was a victory. “I will not run from you.”

Naruto moved forward, then, because he couldn’t help it. It was as though being in her orbit was enough to draw him in, stronger than gravity. He kissed her with every wildly bubbling emotion of joy and relief that he had in him, and sucked on her upper lip with fervor, swallowing the low moan she emitted in response. Her hands came up to his biceps, not pushing but not pulling, so entirely in control.

Even as that impressed him, it ruined him. He wanted her to lose control with him, to be so overcome she couldn’t even hold back—much the same way that he couldn’t. It was a challenge he accepted, one he looked forward to, and as she pulled away lightly and allowed their foreheads to rest together, he smiled. His joy and acceptance reflected onto her expression as well, and they held one another close for a moment longer, Naruto already thinking of all the ways he planned to drive her wild.

She was the first to pull back, and that was a trend he was going to change, believe it.

“The only course you have that I teach,” she said, “Is this one. Afterwards, however—”

“You’re mine,” Naruto whispered, before she could get another word out, and moved into her space once more until they were pressed together entirely, leaning against her car. The heat of Hinata’s skin was a welcome respite, and Naruto bathed in her light.

Naruto knew it wasn’t going to be easy. There were months left of this course, months of which Hinata was telling him that he could not touch or kiss her, move in on her in the way he so desperately wanted to. He would have to fight headlong with his restraint and he would have to win—and he would, because Hinata wanted him. She had reached for him.

It didn’t matter what kind of challenge laid ahead of them, Naruto would face it and defeat it. He would do whatever it took to stay by her side, and when he looked down into the fierce gleam of her eyes he knew without having to ask that she felt the same. There was something that had been building between them since the moment they’d met each other’s’ eyes, and Naruto wanted to see it through to completion.

Naruto wasn’t entirely sure—he didn’t have much experience with this—but Hinata felt a lot like love, and he wanted to hold her in his hands and see what they could create.

What they would create.

Together.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: It's sometime after the incident and Naruto is kinda self conscious about his new prosthetic arm. You get to decide between Regular!Hinata and RTN!Hinata. Also, for some reason the words "high school AU" keep popping up in my head.  
> Rating: _General Audiences_.

It was bizarre.

Uzumaki Naruto couldn’t wrap his mind around it, couldn’t make sense of it. He held up his right hand and watched the sun catch in the steel, glowing metallic silver. His brain said: make a fist.

And he felt absent fibers obey, as his fingers curled against his palm, knuckles gleaming. His brain said: twist your wrist.

And he did.

He could still feel the burn, the ache, piercing and radiating up to his shoulder. His elbow was the worst of it, a constant throb he couldn’t rid himself of. Tsunade had told him it was called phantom pain; that even though his arm was gone, completely, the pain was there. He wasn’t crazy.

It was real. 

He wondered at it, not paying any attention to Daikoku-Sensei as he blathered on and on about situational awareness, or something. Instead, Naruto focused on the way his prosthetic limb functioned. If he looked closely enough—and if his eyes weren’t fooling him after nearly an hour of intense staring, then he was certain his prosthetic was half a blink slower than his organic arm. He made twin fists, trying to watch both at the same time. Then he did it again.

And again.

Someone behind him giggled, and a flicker of a moment later someone’s foot gently nudged his ankle. Breaking out of his distraction, he glanced up at the board and noticed that Daikoku-Sensei was gazing at him quite pointedly, lips pursed and expression shaded in something like forlorn disappointment.

“Were you listening to a word I said, Naruto?”

Naruto grinned, eyes crinkling as he automatically lifted his right arm to rub idly at the back of his neck, a habit. Daikoku-Sensei sighed, shaking his head and turning back to the board to re-teach the latest information in broken down, summarized form. Once he seemed certain that Naruto had at least attempted to pay attention to him, he said, “This is important, Naruto. Get notes from a peer. Hinata, if you wouldn’t mind?”

Naruto turned to see Hinata already sliding her notes his way, nodding at Daikoku-Sensei and flicking a gentle glance Naruto’s way. Naruto immediately dropped his right arm, hiding it inconspicuously under the table against his leg. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed of it, really. It was just…different.

And Naruto had always been different—that was the problem.

He fisted his steel fingers against his thigh, glancing over to Hinata from under his lashes, uncharacteristically shy. Her expression was completely open to him, cheeks dusted pink and eyes tracing the slope of his quirked lips. She immediately glanced down to her notes as Daikoku-Sensei continued with the lesson, coming to a close.

“I color-coordinated them,” Hinata whispered, reaching out to show him the different sections noted in different colors. Her fingers were slender, pale as the paper. She ducked her head. “I apologize if they’re a bit confusing.”

“Oh, no,” Naruto disagreed, eyeing her notes long enough to actually read some of them. His eyes leapt to the orange ink, followed it to gold. Each winding tendril of ink attracted his attention, and it was surprising, the way that a simple change in color helped him to finally take in some new information. “It’s awesome!”

Hinata smiled, head still ducked, and without thinking Naruto lifted his right hand to trace a single line of her text.

“Is this for real?” He asked, lifting his head to glance over at her, finger still pressed to the page.

Hinata stifled a laugh, nodding her head. Her eyes followed the streamline plates of his prosthesis with subtle curiosity, and it was enough to remind him that he had his arm out in the open between them. With eyes trailing over his metallic fingers, she said, “Yes, of course.”

“Geez,” Naruto laughed, smoothly removing his hand and tucking it back underneath their shared table. He heard Daikoku-Sensei end the lesson a moment before the bell, the sounds of chairs scuffing around them, people gathering their things. He couldn’t take his gaze from Hinata’s face, the way her eyes leapt from his hidden arm to his vulnerable eyes. He felt exposed under her gaze, but not uncomfortable.

“You can take my notes home with you tonight,” Hinata said, as she turned to slowly start gathering her own things. “I’ll get them back from you tomorrow.”

“Really? Hey, thanks Hinata!”

Flushing ruddy, Hinata glanced back at him with a smile. Together they gathered their things, two amongst the last few people in the room preparing to head to their next class. Naruto reached up unthinkingly to grasp the strap of his backpack with his right hand, and before he could correct the movement Hinata reached out in a surprising show of boldness.

Naruto froze, heart racing with nerves as her fingers trailed lightly over the steel. He couldn’t feel her, not the way he could still feel the pain, and that was upsetting.

She ripped her hand back as though touching flame, and for a second Naruto thought he’d accidentally shared some of that pain with her. His heart hammered against his ribs. He blinked, startled himself, and glanced up to see that she was pale, embarrassed; her fingers trembled.

“I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“It’s okay,” Every smooth shift in her expression was an awakening, novel and intriguing. Her eyes drew him in easily, without effort. He leaned towards her, and tried to calm her, reaching out with his left hand to clasp her shoulder. He offered her a lopsided smile, his heart still racing but this time with something unidentifiable, something new. “It’s weird, huh?”

“No!” She said immediately, voice low but still managing to startle him. “Not weird,” She continued, ducking her head and pulling her backpack further up her shoulder. She shuffled her feet and Naruto, slightly taller than her, caught glimpses of her self-conscious expression through the gaps of her bangs. Laughter could be heard from the hallway, along with shuffling feet, toes scraping against hardened wood. A door slammed shut. Naruto did not look away.

“It’s neat, you know,” she whispered, too low for him to hear. He blinked, laughing a little.

“What?”

Hinata glanced up at him with eyes that spoke of a sudden challenge, and something in Naruto responded in kind, shoulders pulled taut. Her cheeks still flared with color, but her posture was newly rebuilt, structured and confident even as she struggled to meet his unwavering gaze. Huh, he thought idly, not understanding the shift of her emotions or the way that his shifted in response, a domino effect.

Her words, when they came, were a rushed jumble that left him feeling tethered to the lips that spoke them. “I said, I have to go!”

Naruto blinked after her, watching as she turned and just about ran from the room, sandals tap tap tapping against the wooden floors. Even after she had turned the corner and disappeared from his sight, Naruto stood there staring at the doorway through which she’d vanished. He wondered at her abrupt dismissal, and her embarrassment somehow coupled with a surefire posture of a seemingly indomitable will. And—

His still-racing heart.

“Huh,” he said, this time aloud, to the emptiness of the room around him. After several long moments where he merely stood, pretending as though he could hear her steps in the hallway, he finally urged his legs to move. He tucked his hands into his pockets, ignoring the way his elbow clanged when he accidentally bumped it against the doorway. Usually he would’ve tucked it in closer, been embarrassed enough to see if anyone had noticed. Someone was probably preparing to make fun of him already, the shiver over his spine said, and yet—

He didn’t care. He thought about the long tail of her dark hair, and the way her fingers had trembled when she had touched the steel of him.

It was heavy, suddenly; the realization that rather than being embarrassed of his arm, he felt a complicated mixture of wonder and resentment instead.

Wonder; that she would reach for him, for the arm that was his but not really him. A structural weakness. Resentment, too. What had her touch felt like?

He found himself mulling over an irritating yet irresponsibly promising trail of thought, made entirely of silk and lavender. Why had she reached for me, he thought distractedly, as he turned into the room and found his seat alone in the back of class. Someone threw a paper airplane, crumpled but agile, over his shoulder to slam pokily into the neck of a solemn shaded-boy whose energy seemed to buzz around him. Naruto settled his steel arm on top of the table, this time, uncaring of those around him and their proximity to his strange but newly interesting addition to his body. Later, in his own privacy, he would look back at this moment and realize, suddenly, and all at once, that there had been no pain.

He felt his lips curl in the corners, a slow rising, novel ease of joy.

Iruka began speaking, and Naruto looked up. The gleam of sunlight coming through the window caught in the steel of his arm and held in the pools of his eyes, spilling temporary stars into his line of sight. Silver and gold, flickering in front of him, and a single thought pushing like the tide against the shore of his consciousness.

(Will she reach for me again)


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: naked apron.  
> Rating: _Explicit_.

Dreams always have invisible strings attached. Being Hokage meant _mountains_ of paperwork, and endless political meetings with those who seemed to never tire of the talks.

Naruto didn’t even have the energy to teleport himself home, most days. It was less exhausting to walk, slowly, in the private paths he’d carved out himself through his own village. Paths that didn’t intersect, where he would meet maybe one person at the most, and who would not require anything of him for a single, solitary moment.

But sometimes the work he did revived him, renewed in him an energy that reminded him that he was still so very _young_. He was only just over two veins of a leaf, his body still growing with training, his mind still molding to change. He was still approaching the peak of his strength, something that nearby villages—enemy and ally, both—were reminded of every time he was called into the field.

Uzumaki Naruto was a formidable man, and the creature behind the ink on his abdomen helped offer him more energy than most, if not all who he encountered. He was thankful for that, among many other things that Kurama had to offer.

But it was nights like this that Naruto was _especially_ thankful for the added energy, even after a dishearteningly long and tedious day of paperwork and discussions of peace and of war and of _rebuilding_. It was nights like this that Naruto felt the youth of his bones, the strong pull of his muscles, the vigor of his now-racing heart.

He walked into his home and called, “I’m home.”

He could hear the unmistakable sizzling of dinner from the kitchen, and a moment later the scent of something delicious wafted into his personal space. He toed off his sandals at the door and followed the trail immediately, turning the corner into the hallway just as Hinata offered him a gentle and receptive, “Welcome home.”

Naruto stopped, every line of him frozen, pulled taut, all the elegance of a hand-crafted bow, pulled tight and ready for release.

He had not been wrong: Hinata was making them dinner. There were pots and pans on the far left of the kitchen, sitting on the stove, sizzling and steaming. On the right of the sink sat a fresh tray of unglazed cinnamon rolls, still emitting the familiar scent of freshly baked goods into the room, and in a single trail out the window in front of him. There were cooking utensils spread all around the kitchen, proof of hard work and dedication, and of passion, and amongst them all stood Hyuuga Hinata.

In nothing but the thin drapery of an apron. 

Naruto’s breath left him as though from a blow. There was a curious shifting within him, equal parts required stillness and the voracious need to _move_.

Hinata turned, only just enough to glance at him over her shoulder. The move was as calculated as he had ever seen one, and though his eyes were drawn helplessly, desperately to the beautiful globes of her exposed bottom, he found that her gaze held him even more ensnared when he lifted his own.

Her eyes were heavy, uncreased and watchful. Naruto knew this side of her, and his own gaze shuttered in response to it. He did not move, except for the heaviness of his chest, every breath a restraint.

Hinata moved, turning away from him with an unintentionally sinuous shift. She set something down on the counter and Naruto, struck awed as he was, could not have told what the object was, his eyes so focused on her movements. There was a sharpness to her gaze when she turned back to him, facing him fully, the generous swells of her breasts pushing beyond the borders of her breathtakingly simple apron. She had a jar of something innocuous in her hands, tucked easily in the crook of her elbow. Naruto watched, unblinking, as she slid a single finger across the lip of the jar.

She brought her finger, newly glazed, up to her lips and had Naruto had any shred of self-preservation in him he would’ve held himself in check with the indomitable will he was known for.

Instead, he took a single step towards her, breaking through the tensed stillness of his surprised arousal at finding her in such a state of undress. Her eyes leapt to the movement, her gaze sharpening to a point. Naruto’s heart thundered, he could feel it racing in his throat. He remained frozen there, feeling inexplicably as though he were purposefully approaching a predator.

“I’m making dinner,” said Hinata, who was still sucking lightly at the glaze on her fingertip. Naruto looked at the softness of her, the power of her gaze and her heart that shown through it, all for him, and he felt distinctly powerful in response. That she would do this for the both of them, despite how embarrassed he knew she was under the surface, was a softened edge of tenderness to the powerful spike of arousal he felt running through his veins.

“And dessert,” Naruto said, not taking his eyes from her, even as she glanced carelessly over to her unfinished cinnamon rolls. Naruto took another stunted step towards her and Hinata turned back to him and merely raised her chin, princess to servant in a second.

“I was in the mood to make them.”

“I’m glad,” Naruto said sincerely, his fingers aching to reach, to touch. “I’m in the mood, too.”

He watched her impenetrable mask fracture, only so much to allow the lightest of pinks to dust her cheeks. He had expected her to smile, shy and embarrassed by his candor. Regardless, he’d gotten a glimpse under the mask, and still counted this as a victory.

Hinata surveyed his body and his expression in equal measures of blatant perusal. He couldn’t hide the lines of strain on his expression any more than he could hide the heaviness of the powerful shoulders he had grown into. He stood tall and straight, and had it been anyone else in front of him, they would have thought him imposing. He carried much of his weight in his upper body, his legs powerful but lean, his waist tapered. His jaw squared, framed a set of teeth too sharp at times.

Hinata, having to look up to meet his eyes, blinked slowly.

Anyone else, and they might have looked down, frightened, unsure, wary.

_But there was no one else_ , Naruto thought, gazing intently at Hinata’s exposed throat, her collarbones. The softness of her rounded shoulders, her muscled biceps. _There would never be anyone else._

“You look tired,” Hinata said next, sympathetic until her eyes caught and held on his throat. Her eyes, all-seeing, so powerful and catching; Naruto knew without question that she had spotted his pulse, the flickering of skin there, a glimpse past the tended control of his stilled body into the chaos she rendered within him. With practiced ease, she lifted her eyes to his once more and blinked once, silkily. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

Naruto’s grin was a saw-toothed smile slicing through solid ground, an arc carved over his lips.

“I’m up for it,” he promised, at last releasing the lines of tension in his body, allowing himself to move fluidly towards her, three smooth paces of ground before she was in his arms. She allowed him to slide his fingers over her skin, his breath shaking out of him as he brought his lips to her ear and bit lightly at her earlobe. His voice moved over her skin, hot and unashamedly needy. “You know I can never say no to dessert.”

He felt her hands come up to touch him, gentle at first, and then determined; guiding. Her fingers slipped through the longer bits of hair around his ears and pushed, then pulled, until their lips came together. Naruto couldn’t help but to smile against her, nearly laughing, until he felt the touch of her tongue, the slight pressure of her fingertips against his scalp, silently _demanding_.

Naruto wasted no time in allowing his fingers to run down the curves of her, her tuckered waist and flared hips. He felt twin muscles and grasped, lifted her against him until he felt her legs twine around him, only the apron impeding his fingers from exploring the deepest part of her. His mind was a constant roar echoed by his heart and his hands moved desperately, reaching and touching and pressing. 

Hinata pulled back only enough to breathe, a soft sound spilling from her so close Naruto could nearly taste it. Their foreheads pressed together as Naruto settled her back on the counter, pushing dishes back and away and uncaring when he heard some clang to the floor. Hinata pulled back as if to admonish him, and that was hot, too, but Naruto was tired of playing. He leaned in and took her lips once more before she could say a single word, sliding his tongue along the edges of her teeth.

His hands slid over her curves, memorizing the feel of her again and again, until his palms found her breasts, his thumbs over her nipples. Hinata forgot all about the dishes on the floor, and slid her right hand into the hairs over his nape, pulling him away from her so that she could gasp into the air around them. Naruto leaned forward and kissed her throat, his favorite spot, and took his time there. He paid closest attention to the sounds she made underneath him, and the unconscious tightening of her legs around him when he sucked _just right_.

“Please,” she gasped, at last, at last, her control slipping under his careful ministrations.

Naruto palmed her breasts once more before allowing his hands to slide down her body, under the apron, resenting its cover for the first time. His left hand traveled over her ribs, up her spine, grasping without hurting. His right hand moved slowly, devastatingly so, until Hinata brought one hand from around him and grasped his wrist. He glanced up into her eyes, slowly opening and heavy, and read in them the request which, even silent, translated like a demand. Naruto felt chills race down his spine, over his arms, and he obeyed wordlessly.

She was hotter than midday in the peak of summer, and Naruto melted into her appropriately. He moved his fingers over her carefully, exploring, curious, until he was insistent, needing to delve further, deeper. Hinata’s breaths became shallow, her head thrown back, the apron skewed enough to expose one breast to Naruto’s sight. He dipped immediately to taste the bud of her nipple, pink and erect with provocation.

“Please,” she said again, her voice so quiet his heavy breaths almost buried the word between them. Naruto obeyed Hinata’s plea, as he always would, with sharp approval. His first finger moving within her was joined by another, and soon after, a third. He worked her carefully, meticulously, wanting her to come by his hand. His tongue laved over her nipple and he blew air over it for his own pleasure, and hers, and watched the way she shook because of it. He stood taller, then, and leaned forward to allow their foreheads to slide together, wet with sweat amongst the heat of summer, freshly baked goods, and a simmering home-cooked meal.

“Come for me,” Naruto begged, biting gentle at the soft angle of her jaw, nibbling more than anything just to add to her stimulation. Hinata lost her breath at his words, and began to move her hips in time with his finger, insistent and wanting to please. “Come on, Hinata.”

Naruto knew Hinata better than he knew himself. They’d been together long enough for him to know that talking to her through their shared intimacy broke something steady within her apart, and loosed in her a shaking kind of pleasure. So, he talked.

And as he did, Hinata came alive under him, around him, and Naruto watched her bite her lips as she undulated around his fingers, still moving in perfectly quickened rhythm within her.

She bowed forward and towards him, wrapping around him even as her legs fell slightly slack against his hips. He listened to her pant in his ear, her breath hot against his skin. He pressed tender kisses to the side of her throat, any bit of her that his lips could reach. His fingers were still inside of her, feeling for the aftershocks, enjoying the heat.

He gave her all the time she needed, allowed her to catch her breath and regain strength in her muscles. It didn’t take her long—as one of the strongest kunoichi in any system, she had truly impressive endurance. She pulled back from him after a moment, shifting slightly and blushing wildly when she felt his fingers move within her once more. Naruto grinned, even as he held himself very still. His erection was heavy, tight in the confinement of his pants, but he did not draw attention to it yet.

He glanced beyond her and his eyes landed on the jar of glaze, tipped over and spilling out on the counter now that the tornado of their passion had temporarily subsided. Naruto turned back to Hinata, watched her expression and the slight parting of her lips as he slowly removed his fingers. He didn’t even hesitate under her newly shy gaze, bringing his fingers up to his lips first to get a taste, and then reaching past her to slide them through the glaze.

And when he brought them to his lips, intending to taste them, Hinata lifted her hands to wrap around his wrist and guided his fingers to her mouth instead. Her lips parted beautifully for his fingers, guiding them into her mouth. She sucked softly, just once, her gaze shy as she peered up at him through her eyelashes. When she pulled off of his fingers, she licked her lips, just once, and every figment of control in Naruto snapped.

He pushed forward and caught her lips, chasing the taste, finding it as sweet as she was. Hinata held either side of his head for a moment, and when she felt his hands come to her hips and pull her against him, she tightened her legs around his waist.

But Naruto had something else in mind. He pulled her from the counter and waited until she’d settled her feet back on the ground, all the while never once allowing their lips to part. Naruto turned her roughly, and Hinata’s breathless laughter as she allowed herself to be handled had a thick pulse spreading through him, culminating in his cock.

He pushed her snug against the counter until he was standing against her, pressing his erection purposefully against her bare ass. She bent until she rested on her elbows, keening when she felt the hardness of him, her hips pushing back excitedly. Naruto toed her legs apart, more than he needed but enough to make her squirm, embarrassed but so helplessly turned on. He reached for his pants and only had the patience to unzip them, to push them slightly out of the way and free his cock from the material.

He pumped once, then twice, rewarding himself with simple sensation before resting against the separation between Hinata’s cheeks. She shuddered at the feel of him, hot and heavy and undeniably prepared to mount.

“Do you want it?” He asked, and he couldn’t help the slow curl of his lips in one corner as Hinata cursed, lowly under her breath. He knew what this did to her—making her say it. Embarrassment clouded her truest pleasures, and Naruto was a savant at pushing through until she knew she had nothing to be embarrassed about, and could feel her pleasure wholeheartedly, without restraint.

“Yes,” she whispered, turning over her shoulder with heavy eyes, lips glazed. Naruto swallowed at the sight of her, pressing his hips forward almost unconsciously, needing to feel her. He slid his cock against her, almost playful, mostly desperate.

“Say it, Hinata,” he breathed, moving his hands to her hips to let her feel the press of them and the promise in them.

Hinata took a moment, struggling with embarrassment, but Naruto was familiar with this. He waited as patiently as he could, moving again and again in slow lines, sliding his cock along her ass until the head reached her tailbone, and then pulling back to do it again. Every ounce of him was tense, tight, straining. He wanted desperately to plunge into her, to thrust mightily and deeply, to move within her where they are as close as they’ll ever be. He wanted to hear her breaths break into moans, shattered and exposed, just as his breaths would fracture into grunts through gritted teeth.

And then she said it, without an ounce of shame, just simple desire: “I want your cock, Naruto-kun.”

Even though he had asked for the words, known they were coming, his body still pulsed, a curse slipping through his lips. Precome smeared over her skin, nearly glowing in the new moonlight, and Naruto moved his hands to spread her open. He found her entrance and pushed in without ceremony, squeezing his eyes closed around the familiar tightness of her, and the jarring wisp of her shuddered cry.

“Oh,” she breathed shakily, “ _Please_ , _please_.”

Naruto wasted no time in moving. He wasn’t certain that he could have held himself still; the only way his control would have resisted breaking under her tight heat would’ve been at her own request.

But Hinata did not ask him to stop, or even to slow down. She said, “ _Harder_.”

Naruto put action to request and thrust into her in a grueling pace, the loud slapping sounds of his hips against her generous ass only managing to bring him higher. His hands gripped her wide hips and held on for dear life as he plunged into her, again and again, keeping his thrust shallow so that both of them could feel everything.

Hinata, having already come once, showed no signs of fatigue. Her muscles clenched almost hesitantly around him, her breaths turned to moans, and Naruto leaned over her, giving up purchase of her hips to place his hands on either side of her shoulders, caging her in. He worked with just his hips, his powerful flanks, and Hinata came undone around him for the second time. She called his name, so sweetly honest in her abandon, and Naruto only had a few more thrusts to give, powerful and deep, before he, too, came to completion. He spilled inside of her with her name on his lips, which he pressed lovingly, desperately against the skin of her shoulder blade.

The apron had not fared well with their jarring movements. At one point one of the ties had gotten caught in Naruto’s grasp over Hinata’s hip, and his swift movements had undone her bow. He rested over her now and felt nothing between them, just his abdomen pressed entirely to the length of her back and her bottom. He managed to move himself off of her after a moment, carefully pulling out when her muscles had stopped contracting. He pulled her into his arms, lifting her with leftover strength as she allowed herself to be held. She was nearly boneless against him, but he could feel her lips against his throat, muttering promises through physical intimacy.

Naruto cast an amused glance over his shoulder at the cinnamon rolls, left unglazed, and the pots that had cooled with dinner in them.

“Dinner wasn’t up to it,” he joked, as Hinata lifted her head and surveyed her hard work with a slight pout. “But dessert could be saved, I think.”

Hinata turned back to him, gauging his expression for hidden meaning and undoubtedly finding one as Naruto’s eyes didn’t meet hers immediately. Instead, they trailed over the skewed apron, which left one breast exposed and the subtle dip of her hip, going along her glistening inner thigh.

“I can save dinner,” she said, and Naruto turned and began walking out of the kitchen. Hinata’s arms tightened around his neck, one hand sliding into the sweat-damp hairs, long like his father’s, to massage gently. Then, softly and pressed against the skin of his throat, she said: “And I can save dessert, too.”

Naruto smiled as they made it into their shared bedroom, and kicked the door shut behind them.  


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: I leave the POV to you but this sound like Naruto to me: You keep me warm in your bloodstream. You keep me calm when you breathe in.  
> Rating: _General Audiences._

He remembered the cold.

The frigid grasp of it, the relentless hold.

Holes in his tattered jacket, his weather-beaten pants.

What was it that gave loneliness a temperature, a sensation, a feeling without feeling? He remembered losing feeling; in his toes, the tips of his fingers that longed for a touch. The memory of it was a blade that he chose to wield, because it couldn’t hurt him now; the way it sliced into the skin of his palms, those doglegged joints, those furtive fragments. The frigid slice of it could no longer win over the resulting heat, scarlet and beading, and the present reality of real heat pressed against his own.

“What do you think, Naruto-kun,” a soft voice mused, carried on the wind. She moved her free hand over the rounded breadth of her belly fondly, dotingly. “Cyan, lavender, yellow?”

Naruto gazed at her longingly, wanted to bridge the minimal gap between them, to tuck her into the recesses of his comfort and protection. He watched the way she turned to him, a page of their shared life turning, and her smile was a delicate swipe of ink spilling across the page.

Her smile fractured from pure amusement, dipped into an edge of teasing, sly eyes shrewd. She spoke and her words were trapped laughter. “Or perhaps _orange_?”

Naruto squeezed her hand tighter, his heart a bastion in his chest. He felt his lips curl into a smile of his own, reciprocating her vivacious amusement, and Naruto thought again about heat.

“Lavender,” He said, voice lower than he’d maybe intended. He blinked at her, watching her tilt her head, considering. Fingers of the breeze played lovingly with her hair, obscuring her expression from his view. He reached out to her with a gentleness that stung, that was heated, that flashed him back through memories of cold and blades and the sharp sting of pain that came before the promise of warmth, the promise that he was _alive_. “He’ll love lavender.”

Hinata allowed him to straighten her hair, to fuss over her in the midst of the thriving marketplace. His calluses caught gently on the smooth skin of her cheek, her temple. Her eyes were brighter than he could ever remember seeing them, luring, capturing.

“Okay,” she breathed, and her breathlessness was catching. She laughed, low and sweet, and Naruto moved without ever intending to. He dipped low, allowed their lips to just barely brush, pushed closer until he could taste the gentleness she gave to him. She smiled against the kiss and said, “Lavender it is.”

Naruto pulled back only so far as to look at her, to study the heat of her flushed expression, the brightened wonder of her gaze. He held her head in his hands, his thumbs moving slowly over her temples, and there would never be a limit to the amount he wanted to touch her. To hold her.

To kiss her.

He thought, _do you know?_

Hinata lifted herself onto the tips of her toes, and there it was again, her laugh. It chimed freely, without hesitation, openly and beautifully _happy_. Naruto met her halfway, leaned down to press his forehead against hers, breathing in their shared intimacy, the gap of space he resented between them. Life moved around them, as busy and relentless as time. Chimes sang overhead, tickled by the breeze; store owners bartered, choppy and insistent, compromising; patrons moved through the aisles, the trails of venders and shops; children ran through the streets, kicking up dust and trying their damndest to drown out the sounds of anything above their own voices.

The world turned around them and under them and above them and Naruto stood with Hinata laughing and flushed ever warm under his hands and he wondered once again, _do you know?_

Her laughter, her joy, her strength and determination; the way she ran her hand so carefully, so protectively over the child they had created together just under her heated skin.

Did she know that she was the reason Naruto knew warmth?

That she kept him warm in her own bloodstream, a figment of heat captured and so willingly, lovingly held? Did she know the power she had over him—that he was a man starved for her—that every one of her breaths steadied his racing heart?

Naruto listened to Hinata breathe, for only a moment, a single blink of his eyes, and everything in him calmed. The life of her, a soothing balm to his soul.

Her breath; the promise of four walls and a roof over their son’s head.

Her heat; the promise of the warmth of a family their son would never have to grow up not knowing.

 _Home_.

In shades of lavender.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Autumn [NaruHina Fanzine Submission]  
> Rating: _General Audiences._

The leaves turn, and change, and fall.

Autumn takes its time moving through the streets of Konoha, fingers flushed and dripping with gold, turning pastel life molten. It takes Naruto by surprise, as it usually does, despite the measured shifting of colors and temperature. He blinks as he glances up into the trees, watches the way the leaves turn under the gentle touch of sunlight, flickering in the breeze.

He watches some of them fall, and when he brings his eyes back down to earth and feels his attention leap instinctively to the woman heading towards him, he thinks, _yeah_.

 _I know what that feels like_.

To fall.

Hyuuga Hinata takes his breath away; it’s more than the elegant slopes of her cheeks, perpetually flushed; more than the way the sunlight catches in her eyelashes and holds; more than the simple change in her when her eyes find his, and everything about her _gentles_.

It’s the kindness with which she reaches out to touch him, a question and a greeting—

“Naruto-kun,” she says, and her voice is every swift and sudden shift in the temperature around them, sending chills down his spine. “How are you?”

“Good,” he says, and it comes out quick and messy, just like him, just like his feelings. His blunders only make her smile, gentle twists in the corners of her lips, that same genuine affection she holds for him moving over her expression in every shade of warmth. He catches his breath, watches a leaf flutter through the air between them, and catch in Hinata’s hair.

There isn’t an ounce of hesitation in him—never has been, really. He reaches out to her even as he corrects himself, lets his fingertips trail over the heated curve of her cheekbone until he can feel the jagged edges of the leaf against his skin. There’s still some green on the stem, bleeding out into yellows and oranges and the deepest of reds, just there at his fingertips.

“Good,” he repeats, and feels one side of his mouth tick up in amusement when Hinata merely blinks up at him, wide-eyed and captivated. It’s still such a curious thing, he thinks, that out of everyone in the world Hinata has chosen _him_.

It’d been weeks since he had finally told her he loved her, there in the meadow with the light of fireflies catching in her eyes, twin pools of heated wonder. Weeks since she’d fought alongside him to rescue her sister, to prevent unnecessary destruction at Toneri’s misguided hands.

He carefully extricates the leaf from her hair, fingers twirling the stem in the short space between them, a hair’s breadth away from Hinata’s lips. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing much,” she responds, finally breaking eye contact to shyly duck her head, the toe of her sandal scuffing the dirt.

It’s sudden, and impulsive, but the moment the idea alights in his mind Naruto feels himself reaching back out to her, the leaf in his hands falling to the ground between them. He traces the smoothed edge of her jaw with his fingers, eyes heavy-lidded with affection, and asks, “Will you come with me?”

Hinata does not ask where, or why. Her trust in him is implicit and exhilarating, and her hand is steady when she reaches out to take his, to twine their fingers together and follow his lead. Naruto’s strides are purposeful, a pace quicker than leisure, and Hinata doesn’t question that, either.

He brings her to a familiar place, one all their own, a meadow full of life and light and surrounded entirely in Konoha’s infamous greenery. In the distance, the sun makes its way over the mountains, casting the sky in liquid tones of flame, hindered only by a handful of clouds.

Naruto stops and Hinata is there in front of him, close enough to touch, to hold. It’s easy, then, to pull her into his arms, to press her against him until he can feel the subtle push of her pulse against his skin, a promise and a reminder.

“Hinata,” he breathes, and her name is a prayer. He runs his fingers through the long length of her hair and feels the way she trembles against him, her fingers pressed between their chests. He pulls back only so much as to see her face, the watery gleam of her eyes, unmistakably joyful.

“Here,” she says, so achingly quiet and sincere. “You’ve brought us back to this place.”

“Our place,” he agrees, leaning forward to touch their foreheads together just once, an intimate gesture of affection.

“I have incredible clarity of the moments we’ve had here,” Hinata admits, and Naruto watches the way her cheeks shift from cream to rose right before his eyes. He reaches up and runs his knuckles ever so lightly against her temple, her cheek. He leans in and it’s easy, as it always has been with her, as it always will be, to press his lips to hers and feel her melt into him in turn. He pulls back a moment later, his chest tight with nerves and anticipation, and he watches the way she watches him.

“I have incredible plans for future moments we can have here,” he says, surprised that the words come to him so easily. So cleanly. And maybe it’s love that does that, at times. Cleans up the messes it makes. Hinata’s eyes widen, and Naruto smiles.

“Will you be mine?” He asks, knuckles trailing lightly over her skin, her breath against his lips. “Can I be yours? Forever?”

“Yes,” she says, without hesitation, so easily, so beautifully. Tears turn her eyes glassy and Naruto lifts her against his chest, feels her arms wrap around his neck, and he presses every promise of memories yet to be made of love and support against her lips.

The leaves continued to shift, to change, to fall; for new life, new beginnings, and new stories.

And Uzumaki Naruto does the same, with Hinata at his side.

Forever.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Hinata's upper arms.  
> Rating: _Teen and Up Audiences._

If it was going to happen to anyone, Naruto would’ve pegged it to be Kakashi-sensei. He was lascivious and perverted and he always looked a stride away from doing something _unsavory_ when Iruka raised his voice.

Really, it could’ve happened to anyone; Naruto just never expected for it to happen to _him_.

A fear boner. Sort of. Emotionally, at least.

On the _battle field_.

Sai was never going to let him live it down.

 

✧

 

The morning started ordinarily enough, with Naruto rising with the sun on his back and the sounds of metal clashing outside his tent. The air smelled wet with copper, heavy with anticipation. He changed and readied himself for another hard-fought day, coming out of his tent completely into the sun. It refracted against the mist, a constant here, and made the day seem simultaneously over bright and murky. He nodded to those he passed, his name a familiar kind of awe on their lips.

War changes people. It changes everything.

Naruto still felt unused to it—them. The changes. A fellow shinobi walked past him, ducking his head so quickly he might’ve come away with a mild case of whiplash. At his hip the sun caught in a gleam of charcoal, and Naruto recognized sharp familiarity.

The spiral symbol carved into the iron—it was _his_.

He tried not to think about it too much, it was just too bizarre.

One of his Captains approached him, nothing more for greeting than a terse nod before he began to debrief Naruto on what the night shift had had to offer. Naruto listened with half an ear, weary and battle-beaten but still kicking. His Captain matched his steps and didn’t have to ask to know where they were headed.

On the border of Mist, visibility was nil and wicked. It helped them prepare, though, for the real fighting. So they carved out a space amongst the thinning trees, bare and blackened—not from fire, but from disease. The moors ahead of them were as unwelcoming as they were unforgiving.

Between the trees, they made space to train. To fight. To keep idle muscles warm and flexible, to keep their minds geared for the unpredictability of war. His Captain stopped beside him when they came to the outskirts of the field and Naruto could feel his eyes on his profile.

But Naruto had eyes for someone else entirely. They may call him Commander, now, and he would do his duty to the utmost esteem, but there were still moments he carved out for himself alone. In these rare times, he was just Uzumaki Naruto again. A young man who could be freely curious; a young man who had learned how to _yearn_.

He was only a few days past twenty, still growing, the goal ahead of him looming but still out of reach. He’d always had his sights set on becoming Hokage—yet he had never expected to become a war hero on the journey. He’d never expected war, at all. He supposed that’s how it always was. Unpredictable while striking at the heart of nations.

He wondered presently if _she_ shared a similar rupture of surprise regarding her new status and the title that unofficially came with it—or if, somewhere along with mastering medicine, becoming a squadron Captain, and Lording a clan even while on the frontlines, she had come to expect this.

Hyuuga Hinata had always moved like water, effortlessly graceful, powerfully elegant. Slipped right through his fingers.

War had sharpened her edges, brought her to points. She learned to move like the breeze: unseen, but unmistakably _felt_. She had no need for blades, her palms quicker and nimbler and just as severe. More so.

She leapt away from her assailant’s swift attack, body twisting through the air to avoid a new assault of flying kunai, and came down hard with the blunt end of her palm against her opponent’s neck—and just like that, the spar was over. She had triumphed.

She caught her squad leader’s body before he could fall to the ground. She laid him down carefully and knelt at his side to check his vitals as those around her chattered, hushed and awed, whispering.

Naruto had heard it all before. Frigid. Omniscient. _Angel of Death._

Hinata shifted, tucking her hair behind her ear as she glanced over her shoulder. She caught Naruto’s striking gaze and blinked, once, a breathtaking consideration. He had only enough time to realize belatedly that her Byakugan wasn’t even activated. Then she turned away, back to her opponent-turned-patient, and Naruto watched the man come back to consciousness in her arms with an expression of keen wonder.

Something dark inside him swirled.

Naruto thought, _bastard never stood a chance_.

Whether he was referring to her squad leader or himself, he wouldn’t say.

 

✧

 

Naruto should’ve planned for this. An ambush was expected, when it came to the Mist. They were impatient but bloodthirsty; an ambush was never going to surprise them as the Mist expected it should.

But the Leaf had not expected _him_. Not here, on the outskirts of a dilapidated and abandoned village gradually sinking over time into the moors.

 _A_ _Warlord_ , someone cried through the comm. _There’s a_ Warlord _here!_

Naruto cursed as he weaved away from another sharp-toothed assailant wielding a blade larger then Naruto himself. He’d made the mistake of edging towards the moor and had lost his footing long enough to feel the bite of that blade against his waist—had he moved a second later he would’ve done so in two pieces.

“Retreat,” he hissed through the comm, leaping from beam to beam and pushing through the fragile and broken rooftop to attempt to achieve superior position. His heart thundered in his chest, adrenaline surging. That was Hinata’s squad. “Squad A, _retreat_.”

“Understood,” came the squad leader’s warbling voice, and Naruto’s heart dropped to his feet. Where was Hinata? Hers was the voice he needed—the voice he should’ve heard. Was she too busy in the fighting? Was she injured? Was she—

He would not entertain the thought. He twisted through the air with a hiss, releasing a multitude of shuriken to slow his opponents down. The stars took three of them from the roof, but the other two absorbed them like living pools of water. They laughed and charged and even as they swung their mighty swords for the very heart of him, he could not completely focus on them.

It was a foolish thing to do. A Commander would never be so careless. But he was young yet, and he had never asked for the title, and though he would do justice to the weight of it, they had to have known that he would fail it. He had a track record of failures longer and wider than the gulf that ran between Leaf and Sand, still freshly filled with Naruto’s friendship with Gaara. They had expected too much of him, and he had expected too much of his squadrons.

Hinata still had not answered.

He turned and put all of his weight behind his fist and watched the skull of the enemy shatter around his knuckles. The man fell heavily, bounced on impact. Naruto turned to the next assailant and heard bubbling over his shoulder, never a good sign. He fended off his masterful swordsmanship with clenched teeth, forcing himself to breathe through the impacts.

Kurama, a shadow in his mind, whispered: _drop low_.

Naruto had long since learned to obey that tone of voice. He did as he was told and watched as the Mist shinobi whose skull had shattered around his fist heaved his sword horizontally, right through the space Naruto had stood a moment prior. He had aimed to cleave him in two.

Naruto wasn’t surprised that he was up and fighting again, or that he looked untouched and unhurt. He had been on the frontlines of this war with Mist for years. The tricks of the Mist were many, but he had nearly seen them _all_.

He lifted his hands and said the words and suddenly he wasn’t outnumbered anymore. The Mist nin around him cursed, turning to fight off his clones, each of which charged with Rasengan in hand.

Hinata’s squad leader’s voice came over the line again, and his words threatened to shatter what was left of Naruto’s hard-fought control.

“Our Captain,” he panted, sounding both panicked and exhausted, a painful conflict of anxiety and fatigue. “She is facing the Warlord alone.”

Naruto lost the breath in his lungs.

A Mist shinobi didn’t get the title of Warlord by favor or mere triumph. They won the title by committing a multitude of atrocities. They were heartless and cruel, cold-blooded and hungry. Beasts made from a different cloth, maws always gaping. Mist shinobi were known for their cruelty, the chaos that ensued from their bloodless fingertips.

Their Warlords were known for nothing less than their pleasure of annihilation.

Naruto knew how strong Hinata was. He trusted her. But buried deep in the folds of his battered and weary soul there was _this_ : an animalistic need to protect those he loved, despite what might stand in his way. Death itself could rise up before him and Naruto would beat it back down, teeth and claws bared, Kurama breathing through his veins.

Naruto had fought too long and too hard to create and maintain a family of his own.

He could see the tinge of crimson around him, the way Kurama’s chakra leaked into the air around them. The Mist nin closest to him gasped, the weight of Naruto’s oozing chakra bringing them to their knees.

He felt the heat of a distant explosion, felt the way the earth trembled and the rickety house beneath him quaked. He thought he heard laughter, loud enough to break apart the clouds. Naruto left his enemies behind him without a single look back, a blur of orange and black. The sounds of his clones crashing against them was soon lost to the wind rushing by him as his feet moved swiftly over the earth, bringing him unerringly to where he needed most to be.

He headed for the flames even as he felt them clawing down his veins.

He hoped he got there in time.

 

✧

 

When Naruto arrived, he registered three things at once.

First, the Mist Warlord was more than twice Hinata’s height, and wider around the middle than a pillar of stone.

Second, he was quick. Quick enough to make Hinata’s thighs, fatigued from overuse, tremble.

Third, he was going to lose.

Hinata had cornered him in free space, her chakra a visible, fine-lined stream creating a glowing sphere of restraint around the Warlord, even as he moved. Hers was a moving prison of chakra, the cage of which was as much an attack as it was a defense; it erased every chakra center it touched. It reminded Naruto of the Akatsuki member from Mist whose sword drained chakra when it bit.

Naruto’s eyes caught and held on her bare upper arms, glistening with sweat, defined and flexed in tension. He had always known her to be strong, of a special sort—drawing to his eyes—but _this_ was new.

The way his eyes caught and held and couldn’t look away from the physicality of her form, the way her arms moved in liquid elegance one moment, and then struck viper-quick and critically with stunning designation the next. Her strength silenced in him the roaring of chaos he found so unremitting, and in its absence, something new and equally dangerous lurked.

 _Desire_.

She leapt and twisted, ducked low and dodged, all the while slicing in and carving her way through the mass of chakra centered throughout the giant’s body. His monstrosity of a sword was still clutched in his hands, heavy enough to require both, and it was then that Naruto knew the true strength of the man.

That still he held onto his sword, even after Hinata had struck every one of the glowing spheres of chakra from his arms. He was moving by sheer will alone. His shoulders dragged and he was panting, wounded prey.

But so was Hinata. Blood dripped down from her forehead and already her eyes were swelling deep, mottled blue. A broken nose. She was favoring her right side and Naruto could see the rip in her uniform, a perfect slice over her left collarbone and shoulder. A jab rather than a swing—inches away from her heart. An astonishing move with a sword that large—Hinata must’ve been startled. She was weary, broken and breathless.

But Hinata had never let herself be a victim. Protective of her squadron and present on the warfront, she was a predator sensing a kill; she did not hesitate. She moved in close, allowed herself to be caught. The Warlord’s hand swallowed her throat whole and his laughter blanketed the entire area, a booming thunder—Naruto could just barely hear someone screaming her name—realized too late that it was _him_.

Hinata was quicker than the threat at her throat. She kicked out and Naruto saw it: the streamline lethality of her chakra control.

From the toe of her sandal a stream of chakra radiated, ever blue, thinner than thread. It sliced through the big man and brought him to his knees. She brought her hands up—Kakashi’s voice, suddenly, ruthless and clinical in Naruto’s mind: _a foolish mistake to have allowed a Hyuuga to keep them_ —and sliced through the chakra in his wrists. Her biceps contracted, glistened. Naruto’s stomach filled with heat, and fear.

The sword clattered to the ground, heavy enough that Naruto felt the vibration of it fifty feet away. Hinata did not pause to see if the man would fall completely. She leapt over him and secured her win with deft fingers, the veins alongside her eyes pulsing with heat. Her hands moved so quickly over the Warlord’s body Naruto had to strain to see them, catching only afterthoughts of fatal blue. She leapt into the air and twisted, and Naruto knew this attack, too.

A beast of her own making, a single sapphire creature of chakra and fangs surrounded her palm and slammed into the Warlord’s back. The big cat did not stop where her palm did. It ran through him, taking and taking until every light within him was gone. Naruto watched Hinata fall to her knee, not moving her eyes from her quarry until she had watched the final light in his eyes flee.

Naruto could see her squadron on the outskirts and he wondered idly how long they’d been there, if she’d ordered them away. Behind the Warlord there were waves of fallen Mist, freshly silent. Of course, Naruto thought coolly, the Warlord had not come alone.

When Naruto had arrived, the Warlord had already appeared quite wounded, as though Hinata’s squadron had intercepted him and done their best before parting around what he presumed to be Hinata’s order. She must have wanted them safe. Naruto could see now that they were in awful shape, some hunched over, some being supported by others, all of them bleeding. Far lesser in number than he knew them to be. Naruto turned his eyes back to Hinata and knew without question, without doubt, that she had challenged the Warlord alone to save the remains of her squadron.

It was unlike Hinata to not use her adept mind for strategy to defeat an enemy. Naruto wondered for only a moment why she hadn’t kept her superior numbers, why she had isolated herself to singularity. But he knew what it meant to need to protect those you cared about. Hinata had done just that, as best as she could.

The Warlord had seemed an easy man to challenge, arrogant and cocksure. A young woman standing before him, provoking him into single combat must have amused him; enticed him. He’d probably thought it a game.

He probably never expected to lose.

Naruto moved.

“Hinata,” he called, parsed segments of awe and fear interspersed into something of a sigh. He felt breathless and weary, and he ached for her. For what the war had taken from her; for what it would continue to take from them all. “Hinata.”

She turned to him and he could see the collapse in her, the battered spirit. He lost his breath when she turned to him, tears in her eyes; a surprising softness. Before the war had begun, when he had allowed himself to think about her apart from all others, he would think first of the gentleness of her curves. She had no angles to her. Every deceptively delicate slope of her had humbled him.

Even on the front lines she had somehow, somehow maintained that softness. She guided her squadron kindly, gently, quietly. Taught them of strategy and of survival. She was a wraith in the darkest moments of night, tending to the wounded, still wearing her armor. She sat under veiled canopies in camp with those who could not be saved, and she told them stories, hushed and secretive, theirs and theirs only. Like war, her kindness had changed him.

But he had not seen her cry for years. She was the strongest woman he knew, right there with Sakura-chan, and though her tears didn’t make her less so, they shocked him for their rarity.

“Naruto-kun,” she breathed, and this was a breach of protocol, but Naruto savored it. He let her voice curl around his name and bring him home; it had been so long since he’d been there. So long.

He guided the sentiment behind her voice into the deepest and warmest parts of him. His heart called out to her, beckoning.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, and he was the one who reached for _her_.

She came willingly, gladly, into his arms. Hinata allowed her tears to fall stoically, silently against him. It was Naruto who trembled. Shock, maybe. Desire was there too. But all the more surprising was this: the _fear._

Despite it, his desire only grew.

In another moment, another time, maybe he would’ve kissed her.

But the beast she’d slayed still breathed slowly behind them, unconscious but alive, awaiting a secure trip to Ino’s shadowed quarters. Blood ran down Hinata’s cheeks. The skin under her eyes swelled with color, rosen eggplant.

Now was not the time for romance.

 _Soon, though_ , Naruto couldn’t help but to think. It resonated within him, the first drop in a rippling effect; the ocean of their beginning.

 _Soon_.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Naruto and Hinata both know how to make the other give in to their wishes (non-sexual prompt).  
> Rating: _General Audiences._

Naruto wanted ramen.

He and Hinata had gone for ramen for nearly a week straight, and she realized it was time to change it up. It was one thing to indulge his tastes, and another entirely to suffer because of them.

Not that having ramen every night actually counted as _torture_ , but even Hinata had her limits. Quiet and reticent as she might have been, she knew when to put her foot down.

“Naruto-kun,” she prompted that evening, when she saw the way his eyes trailed to the west where she knew Ichiraku resided. They were only a few streets away, in fact, and the smell of ramen was already on the air. The breeze brought it to him. “I have an idea for dinner tonight.”

She watched Naruto’s eyes flicker to hers, his hand rising to rub idly at his nape. “Ah, really?” He asked, genuine despite the hint of subversion that geared her towards a subtle and wayward contradiction. It followed shortly after, with Naruto’s eyes squinting shut in self-deprecating amusement. “I was thinking maybe we could go to Ichiraku again!”

Hinata nearly smiled. Her eyes squinted shut, mirroring his own, but instead of his guileless amusement hers reflected a dangerous kind of stillness. Naruto stiffened in response, as if that stillness was contagious, leeching. 

“I’ve been working on a new meal,” she continued simply, her gait smooth and unhindered. Naruto had to shuffle a step to catch up, lest his surprise leave him to fall behind. She shifted faultlessly to avoid a passing toddler and heard Naruto curse over her shoulder as he failed to do the same. He apologized profusely to the young one’s parent, jogging to catch up to Hinata’s persisting pace once more. “It will make good use of the vegetables I’ve been growing in our garden.”

From the corner of her eye, Hinata could see Naruto watching her profile. He was curious. “What kind of meal?”

Hinata held back another grin and instead pretended she hadn’t heard him. “The recipe is strict, but even so, I think I’m going to add to it.”

“Recipe?” Naruto asked, tilting forward to get a better look at her expression. She pursed her lips, partly to emphasize her apparent contemplation, and partly to conceal something far more _smug_. “What recipe, Hinata?”

Hinata lifted a finger to tap at her chin, pausing slightly to glance into a shop with a sale sign in the window. She caught sight of something sharp flashing in the shadows, the scent of metal and oil wafting through the air. She lifted a hand and waved to Tenten as they passed, turning away the next moment even as Naruto, confused and impatient with Hinata’s refusal to answer, offered Tenten the most pitiful wave Hinata had ever seen. It took him another moment of her openly pondering over ingredients without responding to him before he leapt in front of her and began to walk backwards, hands tucked in his pockets.

His frown was so deep she allowed herself to worry over it, if only for a moment of broken concentration. With Naruto walking directly in front of her like this, facing her all the while, she couldn’t help but to meet his eyes. She blinked, fell into the pools of his gaze, and just that quickly, the power shifted.

O _h_ , she thought, _but_ _he was good at this, too._

Naruto was not so good at hiding his victories, however. His smile broke over his expression like sunrise, bright and golden.

“Hinata,” he sang, dragging her name out with only the barest edge of frustration in his tone. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“Thing?” Hinata asked, feigning ignorance.

“That thing!” He agreed, bobbing his head and squinting at her, as if by narrowing his vision he’d better see through her to her motive. “You’re being _playful_. But in that dangerous way you sometimes play. Like you’re a cat and I’m a mouse toy!”

This time, the smile she’d been hiding broke through—and with it, laughter.

“Squeak, squeak,” She taunted, watching the way amusement churned the blues of his eyes, teaching them again to catch the light. Naruto puckered his lips, and still they continued on towards their home, Naruto walking backwards and somehow managing not to trip over himself, someone else, or something in their path. Hinata followed after him dutifully, her pace unchanging.

“ _Seriously_ though, Hinata,” he groaned, still grinning. “I don’t get it!”

Hinata feigned innocence. “I told you, didn’t I? I’m going to make dinner tonight. Something new.”

Naruto’s eyes narrowed. “A new recipe.”

Hinata smiled, her eyes softening. “A new recipe.”

“Instead of Ichiraku?”

Hinata hummed, thoughtful. “I think you’ll like it, Naruto-kun.”

“Yeah?”

Naruto’s eyes were wide, watchful. They trailed over Hinata’s face, tracing every expression so carefully Hinata could do nothing to fight against the blush that rose in response. Naruto had a way of looking at her that was unsettling in its honesty, the way he could claim with a simple glance. It was _exhilarating_.

And now, it felt deliberate. _Distracting_ , Hinata thought with unbridled amusement. Naruto’s favorite method of mental attack, considering it was the only method he knew how to use besides outright, unashamed pleading. He had not grown up in a family and culture of barbed words that always, always meant more than what you got on the surface. He was new to this game.

But Hinata was not. Ever so slightly, she picked up her pace, watching him scramble to correct his own. While he was still floundering, she allowed her eyes to drop to the ground, the battered hems of his pants, the dirt on his knees. They approached the street on which their home resided—constructed deliberately in the exact place in the village where the sun first shown after it climbed the mountains—and it was _then_ that Hinata glanced up at Naruto through her eyelashes, showing her claws for the first time.

“Oh yes,” She answered breezily, watching his expression one moment and then glancing over his shoulder to their front door the next. She imagined a single drop of ink dripping into the pools of his gaze, watched it ripple out and slowly start to saturate his thoughts with understanding. “Considering who I got the recipe _from_.”

Her words stopped Naruto in his tracks, but Hinata was never one to leave things messy. She ran a tidy ship, kept her space clear of clutter, her relationships well-fed with clear and open communication. Hyuuga Hinata appreciated and strived for the balance of absolute success, in all things. Less messy, that way.

So despite the way Naruto’s expression shifted from confusion to understanding to recognition of defeat, Hinata continued to move forward. She slipped past him with a deliberate brush of their shoulders, her lips quirking around her final parting shot.

“Teuchi-san is _quite_ the well-rounded chef, after all.”

Hinata heard the well-armed mental trap snap into place with an unheard _snick._ A moment later, Naruto called her name, startled mirth in his voice, and she could hear his footsteps rapidly climbing the stairs behind her. His hands found her waist a moment after she pushed open the door.

He carried her inside with her quiet laughter bouncing off their walls.

They were home.

 

✧

 

Naruto wasn’t the sharpest kunai in the kit, but he could be crafty enough to make you believe otherwise.

On the contrary, Hinata was one of the sharpest people he’d ever met, and she had a side to her that was surprisingly, beautifully, _playful_. Sometimes that meant that they’d poke at each other verbally and physically, and sometimes that meant they ended up wrestling each other in their own living room. Hinata had a breathless kind of laughter that Naruto was certain could rekindle hope in the hopeless, and faith in the faithless. Her eyes were always kind, just like her smile, just like her words, just like her actions. And it was when she was playful that Naruto felt he knew her best, as close to her soul as he could get.

Sometimes, though, Hinata’s playfulness could come with knives. Naruto had thought long and hard about it, and had long since accepted that her upbringing within a clan as strict and powerful as the Hyuuga was the cause. Playfulness probably had not been a trait they’d wanted to foster, especially in a clan heiress. Naruto wondered if, in fact, they’d attempted to squander that beautiful side of her.

And if, in the shadows of their inadequate attempts, they had fostered instead a creature who learned to play in the dark with a smile.

Her barbed playfulness reminded him of Sasuke, and the way his eyes would narrow and sharpen whenever he spoke of his clan.

Naruto had had just about _enough_ of clan politics.

He thought of the way Hinata’s kind smile sometimes shifted, tilted, edged into something murky when confronted with something she opposed within the clan. She corrected it easily enough on her own, though, and knew well how to recognize it and then tame it. Her playfulness had never been something he feared. If anything, it had become a challenge that excited him; a _thrill_.

She was so _good_ at this—but he wanted to be good at this _too_.

“Naruto-kun,” Hinata sighed, lines of exhaustion marring her skin. “I’m sorry, but I told you, I have to work. The clan—”

_Ugh_ , Naruto thought with distaste, though he never dared groan aloud. Despite how frustrating and pointless he found clans to be, he knew the importance of them and he knew how important _Hinata’s_ was to _her_. Especially now, with her coming so close to ascension as clan head.

Instead, he said, “You’ve been working on that scroll for _hours_. Come out with me.”

Naruto studied her, the light of her desk candle casting her face into shades of pale silver and shadows. Her desk overlooked a swatch of evergreens, and just below them, barely visible through their canopies, one could see the flicker of a stream. Her window was open, gossamer curtains billowing. Naruto thought her a living painting, a breathing work of art. Surrounded by the russet tones of her office room, the scrolls along their walls, the navy of her kimono—everything about her was _rich_.

_Hyuuga princess_ , he thought idly, eyes growing heavy with amusement and pride as he remembered the village’s nickname for his wife. _My princess_.

Hinata was exhausted. That much was clear; and Naruto was sharp enough to recognize that it was this level of exhaustion that led her to slip up so early on in their game of push and pull, so much so that the power tilted largely in his favor.

She said, “This is very important.”

Naruto barely even hesitated, steeling his gaze and taking another step towards her.

“So is _this_ ,” he gestured towards the window, the world outside of her clan work. He watched her eyes flicker, wavering. He stepped close enough that he could reach out and touch her, close enough to smell the vanilla lotion on her skin.

He did not touch her.

It was this, too, that made her falter—she was so used to his easy physicality, the careless way he seemed to always have to have a hand on her whenever they were together. He shook her up deliberately by pulling back, rather than pushing forward. So unlike him, and so purposeful.

And she knew it.

“Come with me,” he nearly begged, and maybe he was using every one of his strengths against her too quickly, too heavily, but he could see her bending to him and it only encouraged him. She reached out over her chair and Naruto instantly threaded their fingers together, never once looking away from her watchful gaze. Her eyes were lined heavily with eyelashes that, when she glanced down and sighed, nearly dusted over her cheekbones. He watched her hair, long and sable, slip over her shoulder.

“Hinata,” he pleaded, “Hinata, come with me.”

The pen fell out of her hand, clanging twice against the oak of her desk; a small victory. He did not take the time to celebrate it. His heart was set on a much greater prize—one that would help to lessen the burden on her shoulders, that would ease the stress from her muscles. Her fingers tightened around his and he watched her turn more fully to face him, fighting him even as she moved towards him.

“I can’t just abandon this,” she attempted to be stern, but the sigh that forced its way out of her immediately after ruined the effect. “It will need to be done.”

“And it will,” Naruto hedged, careful as ever, which was to say: not careful at all. “For sure, you’ll get it done. And I’ll help you, believe it! I mean, I might not be that much help, because I know fuck-all about clans except that they kind of _su_ —”

Hinata’s eyes flashed, a warning, and Naruto realized he’d run off course and was headed for disaster. And after he’d been doing so well! “Nevermind. What I’m trying to say is that I’ll definitely help you, absolutely! But for right now, there’s something else that’s equally important. And it’s _out there_.”

Hinata’s eyes narrowed at _equally important_ , but softened only a moment later, because even though Naruto had said _out there_ , his hand was resting on his heart. Hinata’s entire body language shifted into something effortlessly beautiful; incredibly accepting and almost docile. Naruto had foolishly expected more of a fight from her, but that had been before he’d seen the way exhaustion had bowed her shoulders, lined her face. Had she lost weight? He’d need to rectify that immediately.

He watched Hinata watch him, a silent and intimate moment of mutual study in the privacy of their own home. Hinata was a vision, and Naruto realized he was still wearing the pants that had holes in the knees. He felt his nape flush with heat, despite knowing exactly how Hinata never minded his disorder. Even after growing up in a world strictly maintained with order, _his_ , she had explained, was a chaos she found respite in.

One could not separate the clan from Hinata. They were two sides of the same coin: order and the welcoming of chaos.

Hinata pushed herself up from the chair, and in the same fell swoop of Naruto’s heart pumping around victory, it came up short against Hinata’s sudden playful suspicion. He’d thought himself successful—completely, totally.

Hinata had always been good at catching him off guard.

“What is it you want me to see, Naruto-kun?”

Naruto took a page from her book, trying _so hard_ to nail her exact expression of guileless contemplation as he hummed for exaggerated effect. He thought he might have succeeded, when humor brightened her eyes from ashen to moonlit silver.

“I _wonder_ ,” he said, thinking of how Hinata would respond in his position. Hinata must have known it, too, as laughter brought color into her cheeks for the first time in days. “I guess you’re gonna have to just come with me to find out!”

Cheeky. Confident. Naruto looked too far ahead, thought he had victory in his grasp, didn’t see that Hinata had a hand already wrapped around the first and strongest thread of it.

She lifted her chin, and in that measured but minute gesture, the game shifted.

“The contract I’m working on has the potential to free children of the clan from decades of mandatory servitude.” Hinata regarded him steadily, brows pinched in sudden sympathy as he flinched. “I understand that I’m not fun to be around when I have so much work to do, and that I need to take breaks. But sometimes there are more important things to be done. Exhaustion is so minor a thing in comparison. It is a cost I’m willing to pay.”

Sometimes she truly didn’t pull her punches, and though he was often left teetering because of it, he loved her.

He loved her so much he could barely breathe around the heaviness of it, the way that thoughts of her clouded his mind, quickened his pulse. He loved the way she was kind, even to strangers. He loved the way she was with Hanabi, guiding and supportive, unashamedly protective. He loved the way she stood up for what she believed in, held fast to her morals and refused to back down, even in the face of great, great pain.

He loved, too, the way her eyes could narrow; how her tongue could sharpen. He loved the way she treated him as an equal, not pulling her punches when the content behind them _mattered_. He didn’t need to be coddled. He might have grown up without proper guidance but he was no longer a _child_ —despite what their friends might jokingly claim.

What he needed wasn’t a parent or guardian-like figure. He needed a partner.

He needed Hinata. _Always_. And he wanted her, always; her truth, her love, her unfailing kindness. Her strength and her determination.

He wanted her honesty. He found that every time she handed him something _this important_ , trusted him enough to actually voice this kind of information, that he fell even more in love with her. Because he was _beloved_ , too.

Who had ever, ever offered him that kind of reassurance? Who had ever been willing to be completely, sometimes fearfully honest with him, despite the potential for his refusal or reprimand?

Hinata stood alone in that regard, and in doing so, she had isolated his ever-willing heart for her own safe and trusted keeping.

“I understand,” he said, and the playfulness left his tone. He tugged lightly at her hand, guiding her into the warmth of his arms, his chest. She tucked her face against his neck and he heard her breathe. He rubbed his hand over her back, soothing. “You are so kind, Hinata, so _good_.”

Hinata began to shake her head, and he knew the way she’d deny the latter, claim that what she was rectifying was necessary and not something she should be rewarded for, but he didn’t allow her to object. He rewarded her anyways, always, with his own unbridled honesty.

“You are. And I admire you so much, you know? Every day you make me proud of you. Every day you surprise me. I don’t know how you do it—I think that’s one of the things that makes you so damn special. You always, always impress me without even trying. It’s so easy to love you.”

Wetness at his collar. Naruto’s voice fell, quieted, until it was barely more than a thrum in his chest.

“Take a moment to let me show you,” he said, “How easy it is to love you. Come with me for a bit and then I’ll bring you back. You can continue to save the world one frustrating clan at a time. I promise.”

After a moment, Hinata pulled back enough to study his expression, his heavy-lidded eyes and the small quirk of his ever-fond smile.

As a last flag of resistance, Hinata asked very quietly, “What is it you want to show me?”

Naruto could hear the surrender in her voice. His lips curled around success and joy caught the moonlight in his eyes, and held.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he laughed, ducking down to press their foreheads together, playful as ever. Hinata’s smile was close enough he could almost taste it. “It’s a _surprise_.”

Hook, line, sinker.

“Okay,” Hinata breathed, so quietly Naruto almost missed it. “Lead the way.”

Naruto dipped low and slid his arm under her knees, pulled her up completely against his chest. He nuzzled her nose, kissed the backs of her eyelids. He said, “We’ll lead together, okay?”

And when Hinata hummed, Naruto’s smile broke free completely.

“Hold on to me,” he warned, leaping to her windowsill. “And don’t let go.”

Much later, on the highest peak in Konoha with only the moon as their witness, Hinata fell asleep in Naruto’s lap despite the bounty of blankets and pillows he’d surrounded them with.

Naruto carded his fingers through her hair. He continued to hum along to her favorite song.

For the first time in days, Hinata rested easy.

And Naruto thought that success had never felt so peaceful.

Or so rewarding.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: Naruto's old T-shirt.  
> Rating: _General Audiences._

“Be safe,” she whispered, pressing her lips against his temple. “Fight hard.”

“Hinata,” he breathed, the only word his lungs could find, her name a solace and a servitude, both. He drew her in closer, felt the heat of her, pressed his lips against her hair.

“Let’s _go_ ,” someone shouted, voice deep and ragged, a veteran in charge. There was a chorus of them, Naruto realized, an echo of destitution along the gates. They sounded so weary, so tired. “Let’s _go_.”

Naruto drew away from Hinata, his eyes moving across her features, drinking her in. He wanted to remember her like this, in this moment, the light of dawn cresting over her cheekbones, the breeze toying with the ends of her mussed hair. Sunlight spilled over her, turned the ragged rust of his frayed shirt a brighter and more familiar shade of orange. _Like the sunrise_ , she’d said, then laughed, _or the sunset_.

That had been so long ago—how old had they been, the first time he’d woken up to the sound of her moving things around in his kitchen, wearing nothing but that ugly orange shirt? He couldn’t remember—but he could picture the exact moment he saw her, hair piled atop her head, the hem of his shirt grazing over her supple thighs. The smell of green tea, a hint of honey. The sound of her voice as she turned to him, morning light pooling over her, magnetic and mesmerizing.

_Did you sleep well?_

“I’ll come back,” Naruto promised, uncaring of the shouts growing faint with distance, ( _let’s go, let’s go_ ), proof that he was already falling behind. He heard only his own words and found the tremble in them, the pitfall, the possibilities of what could follow _I’ll come back—_

He wouldn’t say _alive._ He said, “I’ll come back soon.”

Hinata was stronger than he was. She didn’t tremble, didn’t shake. A single tear slipped over the elegance of her cheekbone, to the softened line of her jaw. She reached out to him, ran her thumb along the corner of his lips, a familiar and comforting gesture. She smiled, and he knew it was _for him_ in just the same way that one recognizes their own home; with warmth and comfort and _love_.

Hinata moved towards him, onto the tips of her toes. She pulled at his nape until their foreheads touched, and flinched when another shout coursed over them. The fading time left for them to be together became more and more noticeable, until it was a palpable thing between them. People were already returning to the village, to their lives, having already sent off their loved ones. There were only a few people left lingering, pressed close, whispering quietly to one another. Hinata closed her eyes.

“Make it a promise,” she whispered, and Naruto’s heart lurched, ached, pounded. Never before had his ribs felt more like a cage. Naruto moved closer, pressed their lips together, tasted the salt of her skin, a single tear track over her lips. He brushed it away with his thumb, watched the way her eyes came open to stare up into his. Sunrise, sunset, that disheveled shirt of his that she so loved to wear lit the perimeter of his vision bright, bright orange.

“It was, it _is_ ,” He whispered at last, pressing the words against her lips. “I stand by what I say.”

Time snapped between them, a broken thing, and they parted until the air between them was sodden and heavy with it.

Naruto was an optimistic person; always had been, always would be. But even someone as bright and full of hope as he was could still feel doubt, and uncertainty. It was in that moment that that uncertainty struck out at him, made him think, _if this is the last time that I see her—_

There, in his ugly shirt, with pillow lines still creased on her cheek from _his_ bedsheets and the heart she so freely gave to him pushing heat into her cheeks, he thought—

“Stay safe, Hinata,” he said, instead. He forced himself to sound certain. “Work hard.”

Hinata lifted her chin even as tears began to fall evenly, her fingers gripping the hem of his shirt against her thigh. She nodded once, definitively, and Naruto turned away from her.

He did not allow himself to look back. He caught up to the other young people being sent to the front lines of a war they had a hand in starting, and he did not look back.

He looked ahead, and yet all he could see was—

Sunrise. Sunset.

 

✧

 

“There has to be another way.”

“I’m trying to tell you,” Nara Shikamaru sighed, pushing at a line of tension along his forehead. His hologram body shimmered in the space of Naruto’s war tent, the fizz of static a comforting distraction from the hush of war outside his poorly constructed walls. “This plan has the least amount of casualties.”

Naruto gritted his teeth. Not for the first time, he repeated himself.

“Even one casualty is too many.”

Shikamaru’s sigh came even before the sentence fully left Naruto’s lips. He shook his head, mixed parts exasperated and wearisome.

“You’re so _troublesome_. It’s a wonder you’ve done so well there, truly,” Shikamaru lamented, “With a mindset more naïve than a Genin.”

Naruto didn’t stiffen at the jab, didn’t back down. He pushed harder, no punches held.

“It’s this naïve mindset that we’re fighting for, day in and day out. Even one life is too great a loss for us to be okay with, Shikamaru.”

His head consultant’s face pinched in just the way that it did when his mother scolded him. Naruto didn’t take the time to draw the line from point A to point B and realize he’d just mentally compared himself to Shikamaru’s _mother_.

“Fine,” Shikamaru groused, “Say we go along with your plan. What are we going to do about the civilians? You can’t just burst through the front door with Rasen-Shuriken in hand, Naruto. You’d level their village.”

“Nah,” Naruto agreed, “No bursting in, no Rasen-Shuriken. Just me, a couple hundred more of me, one of my generals, and her battalion.”

“Just walking right in the front door.”

“Yes.”

“Where everyone in the village, civilian, spy, and stationed battalion can see you coming. From at least a mile away.”

“This way,” Naruto hedged, “It’s fair. They’ll come to fight us before we reach the village gates. When we get there, we can offer aid to the civilians there, if they need it. If they want it.”

Naruto’s expression darkened, became storm clouds roiling over an open plain, freckled and jaded with scars.

“We will not do what was done to Rain country.” His voice was an unsheathed sword, the first glimmer of steel out of the scabbard, an unabashed warning. His posture was a reckoning. He met Shikamaru’s hologram eyes without blinking, jaw tight, and said, “If the people of this country don’t want us here and don’t want our aid or supplies, we will leave. We will not force them. We might be helping, but they have the power here. I won’t stand for anyone trying to take that from them.”

“Sheesh,” Shikamaru sighed, shifting his weight. Somewhere behind him Naruto heard the distinct sound of pages turning, the rustling of many actively doing research. “I know that. We’re on the same page, Naruto. All of us are. It was _these people_ who wrote to us for aid, so that they wouldn’t be wiped off the map, remember?”

The weight of Naruto’s heavy shoulders lightened, allowed him to bow where before he had stood sharp and tall. “Yeah,” he laughed, with some humor to it. “Yeah I remember. Just wanted to make sure.”

Shikamaru’s eyes softened, sympathetic. “I know this situation reminds you of—ah, hell.”

Shikamaru scuffed his foot on the floor, threading his hands together behind his head in a gesture that was somehow an expression of comfort and discomfort both. He wasn’t fond of this, intimate discussions outside of duty and strategy, and this was more troublesome than most. Still, because he could see the way Naruto swayed, could see twin groaning shadows under his eyes, the way that war had move through him with barbed edges, catching and stealing, he persisted. “She would be proud of the way you’re handling this. This village is only slightly smaller than Whirlpool had been, after all.”

Naruto was silent for a long time, his eyes heavy. His fingers twisted unconsciously into the fabric of his pants, right at his thighs. “Yeah,” he finally said, lower than usual. He thought of a frame, cracked and dusty, squared away inside of four walls under the sun he called home. A family. A woman. Red hair, his eyes. “I guess this place feels a bit more personal. Because of that.”

He hadn’t even really realized it until Shikamaru said it outright—too focused on strategy and keeping his friends and those innocent people caught between the fight alive. But Shikamaru had a mind that saw everything, _everything_ , and this, too, factored into his planning. Naruto might never have put the pieces together so precisely, and realized that this little village under siege reminded him of Whirlpool.

Of his mother, and the little that he did know about her.

Shikamaru allowed him a moment of consideration, a rare pensive mood for their young Commander. He cleared his throat, and Naruto’s gaze caught his once more. His body wrapped itself back into cords of strength, armor of muscle and bone and human will.

“Your plan will work,” Shikamaru admitted slowly, bringing them back to the issue at hand. “You just thought about keeping the civilians safe and furthest from the actual fighting, but I know the way our enemy thinks. They’re arrogant enough to meet us there. They _will_ meet us there. The only question is if you have enough forces to meet them.”

“We sure do,” Naruto said, tone lilting slightly, just enough to catch Shikamaru’s attention and hold it. Naruto’s smile was a tired thing, but humor still had the power to lift it. “I have a surprise for them.”

“More surprising than three hundred of _you_?”

Naruto laughed lowly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, that trick’s old hand, by now.”

At that, Shikamaru seemed to somehow grow even more disgruntled than before. Naruto grinned, though.

“I have Rock Lee.”

Shikamaru’s eyes brightened, his lips quirking questioningly, as if asking for more information without ever having to say the words.

Naruto explained it all.

 

✧

 

Even as a young boy, Naruto had known he’d rise through the ranks. He’d _planned_ on it. No one became the Hokage by being complacent in their position in life. They jumped at challenges, they changed the world.

He just never expected to have to rise so _quickly_. He didn’t have a mind for complex strategy, but he had a will of pure, living fire that managed to burn its way through impossible odds and straight to victory. His unit triumphed under his bravery and encouragement, and when his battalion’s decade-long general fell, it was Naruto they appointed in his place.

They tried to rise him up; offered him new dwellings, better accommodations, more rations. Naruto insisted his tent remain with the war party, no larger or more lavish than any other. He got used to receiving report from people older than himself, and tried his best to utilize those around him so as to prevent as many losses as possible. Victory was always there in his mind, but it was protectiveness that stole the forefront. These were his _people_. Good people. He would not fail them.

But damned if it wasn’t _exhausting_.

“Sir?”

Naruto stirred, refocusing on the shinobi before him. He was younger even than Naruto, with a new scar forming through his chin, bright and angry. His report had been perfectly organized, more so than Naruto could ever dream to replicate. Naruto’s eyes dropped to the boy’s hands, saw the tremors in his fingers. Exhaustion, not fear.

“Sorry,” Naruto laughed, a forced effort. He rubbed passively at his nape, his fingernails still caked with dirt, dried skin. Blood. “Thanks for the info. I’ll try to put it to good use, believe it.”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” the young man offered. He sounded reassuring, as though he thought Naruto had thought he’d been looking down on Naruto for not paying attention earlier. Tension pooled in Naruto’s temples. He was overthinking things. He tried to offer up a smile, knew it looked forced, but the young man returned one as true as rain anyways. It stretched the skin of his chin, accentuated the budding scar there.

“Hey, don’t forget we have a medic’s tent,” Naruto reminded him, softening his tone so it didn’t sound like an order. His smile was a little more heartfelt when it lifted and he added, “You should stop by and ask Hinata to check on you. It’s important to keep yourself healthy out here, seriously, and even if you wanna keep the scar, you might wanna let her give you a full check-up. Nothing wrong with making sure you’re healthy before you head out with lives depending on you.”

The young man hesitated, eyes searching Naruto’s. Something Naruto said made his shoulders bow, and the soft curl of the young man’s lips was full of pity. He said, “Sir,” ever politely, “Did you mean Hana? Our chief medic?”

Naruto blinked at the boy. His mind was already racing over new plans and orders again and the tension in his temples had turned into a full-blown looming migraine. He couldn’t remember what he’d had to eat let alone if he’d said something that didn’t make sense.

The boy’s smile grew in shades, growing less in pity and more of amusement, as though he was in on some joke Naruto didn’t understand or was just too tired to get.

The young man saved him the effort of asking him what the hell was going on by nodding his head with a single bubble of muted laughter. “Yes, yes,” he said, “I’ll go see the medic. And sir, not to step out of line, but you should try to get some sleep.”

Naruto smiled, eyes growing heavy. “Will do,” he agreed, though sleep seemed so far away he wasn’t even sure if he could properly spell it at the moment. The young man bobbed his head and made his way, presumably off to the medic tent as Naruto had encouraged. Naruto watched him go with curiosity still pooling within him, wondering at his blunder. The young man lifted the flap of Naruto’s tent and the morning light caught his hair, turned it to flame.

Auburn. Orange.

Naruto took one last look at the map laid out in front of him and pushed away from the table, over to his makeshift futon. He collapsed on top of it with a gust of a sigh, praying for a moment of peace, of respite. He sat up straight a moment later when he heard a far off crash, and then the echo of someone apologizing. He relaxed minutely, shaking his head and reaching up to rub at his temples. He let his head fall, dangling between his forearms, fingers pushing through his hair. It was longer now. He closed his eyes and imagined smaller fingers pushing through the strands, gently massaging his scalp.

His eyes opened heavily, the ache within him growing. He reached under his futon and pulled the envelope he kept solely for her into his lap. He thumbed through several letters, re-reading and re-reading letters he’d re-read countless times before, her cute looping scrawl, his jagged scratches beneath.

He flipped through pictures she’d sent, of herself in their home, their bed, his shirt. Theirs, too, he thought with amusement.

The most recent correspondence with Hinata had not come from Hinata herself, but Iruka. It was a photograph of Hinata, candid and real, blurred in one edge. Her hair was up and pulled back, her eyebrows pinched as she gently introduced healing chakra into an injured child’s system. The green light of it reflected off of her skin, caught mistily in her eyes. Her clothes were ragged, her hair messy. He knew without Iruka’s letter of explanation that Hinata was working tirelessly at a village hospital near Konoha, where refugees were funneled to be treated. Her time would be split, if the war continued on. She was too valuable a healer to send to the front lines when so many refugees required aid so close to home.

The front lines were already covered well enough, though, with Sakura there.

Should the war continue, Hinata would undeniably be sent to the front lines somewhere. This was not conjecture; she had been briefed before he’d left, and explained it to him simply. She would go to war, too. Just not with him.

Naruto touched the still image of her face, poised in concentration. The edges of the photo were already worn from touch, from overuse. He found comfort in knowing she was working hard near home, that she was safe. Those had been his only demands of her. _Stay safe_. _Work hard_. She was keeping her promises.

And he loved her.

He loved her and he’d made her a promise, too.

And he intended on keeping it.

(Sunrise. Sunset.)


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: (because it was hot as heck here today) how about NaruHina and bathing suits.<3  
> Rating: _Teen and Up Audiences_.

“It’s hot,” Naruto said bluntly, staring dazedly ahead into the stream. “It’s—”

“It’s ungodly,” Ino groaned dramatically, stretching back further on her lounge chair. “That’s what it is.”

“Summer is here in full swing, huh?” Choji agreed, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. “It’s always like this. We deal with it.”

There was a pregnant pause, and then the both of them glanced in perfect unison across the creek to the closest tree and the only spot of cast shade. Naruto followed their gazes a moment later. There was Shikamaru, lying in the shade of its canopy, his towel laid over his eyes. Not even an hour spent, and already sunburned. Choji added offhandedly, “Some better than others.”

“He’s a wimp,” Ino groused, blowing a puff of air up at her bangs. She turned over to her back, evening out her impending tan. “I’m at least three shades paler, and I’m not sleeping in the shade like some boring recluse.”

“Ino-san,” Choji spoke pleasantly, “Give him a break.”

“Too troublesome?” She said, not without amusement. Choji returned her smile, and Naruto watched them in confusion, feeling distinctly like he was missing parts of this conversation.

“Definitely.”

“Well,” Ino sniffed, glancing into the stream where most of their generation still swam. It was less swimming, actually, and more roughhousing, but Naruto wasn’t about to split hairs with her on one of her only days off from interrogating S-class criminals. He knew well enough for _that_. “If I burn and Sakura doesn’t, then you’ll all learn the _true_ meaning of troublesome.”

“Let me get this straight,” a new voice joined, coming over their shoulders. Choji shifted on his lounger and grinned, offering his knuckles as Kiba approahced. Naruto turned to him with a nod, and Kiba’s eyes trailed over him curtly before casting away. Naruto didn’t have to guess why. Kiba was notoriously protective, and Naruto had become notoriously _interested_ in Kiba’s female teammate over the past few months. “You _want_ your girlfriend to burn?”

Ino pursed her lips. “No,” she said petulantly, in the same tone of voice she used in every argument she knew she was going to win. Which, really, was all of them. “I don’t want to burn _alone_.”

Kiba shook his head. “You are something else.”

Ino smiled. “And don’t you forget it.”

“I don’t get you,” Naruto added offhandedly, not entirely invested in the conversation since he’d missed so much of it. They’d clearly been speaking silently about _something_ , but damned if Naruto had a clue about what. “And if Sakura-chan heard you say that, she’d probably dunk you in the water.”

Ino’s smile was a weapon shaped for war. “She could _try_.”

Naruto shivered bodily, his eyes casting out to their friends wading in the stream. Tenten was riding high on Neji’s shoulders, and across from them Rock Lee was rapidly approaching atop—was that— _Shino?_

As if reading Naruto’s thoughts, Choji asked, “I don’t think I saw Shino-san. Is he coming today?” Naruto glanced over and watched Kiba blink down at him as he twisted a finger in his ear to dig something incriminating out. He flicked it away without a second glance.

“You kiddin’?” Kiba asked, laughing a little; Choji’s expression became cluttered. Kiba jutted his chin at the stream, waited for Choji to follow his direction, and said, “Shino’s in the water already. Playing chicken.”

Choji turned red enough to put a flustered Sakura to shame. Ino looked on calmly, unbothered, though one of her eyebrows tilted curiously.

“I didn’t know he was a social butterfly,” she said.

Kiba pointed at her, finger waving as though stuck between sassing her and giving credit where credit was due. Her puns never ceased to amaze. Naruto watched him contemplate praising her, then let it drop. Instead he just said, “You’ll get used to it eventually.”

“I apologize,” Choji offered a moment later, embarrassed—but Kiba was already shaking his head, tossing his hand carelessly.

“No harm, no foul, man.” He unceremoniously adjusted himself, ignored Ino’s cluck of disgust, and asked about their teachers. “Weren’t they supposed to show up?”

“They’re at the _bar_ ,” Ino rolled her eyes, resting her head back to allow the sun a full glimpse of her upturned face. “Because nothing says welcoming Konoha’s blazing summer heat like welcoming further dehydration with _alcohol_.”

“Huh,” Someone said to Ino’s left. The moment Naruto heard his voice, he knew they were all destined for trouble. As such, Naruto pretended to stretch, lifting himself off the ground all the while. “Never would’ve taken you for someone to bash alcohol, regardless of the time of year.”

Ino’s upper lip stiffened. “Sai. Are you trying to call me an alcoholic?”

Naruto whistled, and Choji took that moment to examine one of the pockets in his swim trunks. Sai set the canvas tucked under his arm to the side and unrolled his towel beside Ino’s chair, each move meticulous. He settled in and perched his canvas on a portable, fragile looking easel before responding.

“Is the daytime sky blue? Do fish swim?”

Kiba flinched, and Naruto purposefully looked in another direction, still whistling. There was a distinct sound of gnashing teeth and then a startled yelp, before Sai’s voice returned again, unrepentant and fearless.

Naruto glanced over to see his hair a little mussed, as if he’d been lightly smacked upside the head. Ino’s hand was still raised. “A very persuasive argument.”

Before Ino could leap into his mind and eviscerate his every memory, Sai was saved by Sakura’s oncoming approach, and the instantaneous way that she caught Ino’s attention. Sakura’s red bikini was stark against the pallor of her skin, unmarked and unblemished and still glistening with droplets of water. Naruto glanced over her shoulder curiously, eyes searching. He didn’t see Ino’s sharp gaze turn in his direction, seeing far more than he thought she could.

As Sakura came over and sat in Ino’s lap, pressing wet kisses to her throat as Ino tipped her head back and laughed, Naruto searched the waters. Team Gai plus the bizarre but somehow fitting addition of Aburame Shino were still playing a vigilant and—from the sound of it, _youthful_ —game of chicken. Naruto heard Tenten’s pealing laughter as she called out, “Is that all you got, bug boy?”

He watched Shino’s lips trace the words, _bug boy_ , before he grabbed tighter to Lee’s thighs and _charged_. Lee’s wail was loud enough to raise birds from their branches, one of his hands threaded through the tufts of Shino’s hair like he was at a rodeo. Naruto felt his lips sliding into a familiar smile, calm and comforted, nearly perfectly content.

But still, he searched.

And _there_ , further down the stream, he found her.

She was radiant; so beautiful she took his breath away, and she—

Was talking to _Sasuke_ ; perched on flat shamrock stone, feet dangling in the water, side-by-side. Naruto’s mouth fell open of its own accord, surprise flitting across every one of his features. Sasuke was not the type of person to come to these outings, even when Naruto and Sakura incessantly pestered him (which usually ended up in a beating) or when they attempted to physically drag him (which _always_ ended up in a beating). What had changed his stubborn mind this time? Or, Naruto thought with sudden jealousy, _who_?

His feet moved, and before he even realized it he was heading towards them. Hinata noticed him first, turning to him with a smile muted in reserve. Sasuke watched Hinata’s profile a moment longer, lingering in a way that unsettled Naruto, before turning to him. His expression tucked itself away, left nothing behind but flat apathy at Naruto’s approach. He stopped in front of them and felt a tremble in his vocal chords, an uncharacteristic nervousness.

But Hinata was in a bathing suit and she looked so beautiful he could barely think. He swallowed heavily and fiddled with the waistband of his swim trunks, suddenly uncertain of what he should say. They stared up at him for a moment before Hinata greeted him, soft as silk.

“Hey,” he responded easily, bobbing his head. He glanced over his shoulder and he could see Ino laughing at him, Kiba shaking his head in wry sympathy. Somewhere nearby he heard Rock Lee wail in what sounded like defeat.

“Nice, uh, day today, huh?”

He completely and totally ignored the expression that moved over Sasuke’s face in waves of amusement, and focused entirely on the way Hinata’s eyes narrowed with affection.

“It is,” she agreed easily, flicking her eyes between the two of them. “I’m happy to spend it with friends.”

Naruto melted towards her, finding a seat beside her on the shamrock. She was so blithely kind. He let his feet dip into the water, felt the icy prickle of it along his skin. He hummed in response to her, turning only to gauge her expression. He watched the way the light caught the water and reflected off her unblemished skin, entranced.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, without restraint or filter. “So, do you wanna swim?”

Hinata blinked at him, and both of them ignored the way Sasuke pointedly sighed, then rose to his feet. He offered Hinata a simple, “Talk to you soon,” and turned to Naruto with that same bridled amusement in his dark eyes. “Idiot,” he said, his only parting offer before he turned and headed for the shade at the tree line.

Naruto glared after him for only a moment before turning back to Hinata, expression hopeful. She seemed all the sudden self-conscious, aware that now it was just the two of them. She pressed her elbows together in her lap, fiddled with her fingertips. She tried to shirk away from him completely, her cheeks growing red. But Naruto was having none of it; instead, he leapt to his feet with a smile that could rival the sun, and then he leapt headfirst into the stream.

By the time he re-emerged above the surface, Hinata was looking concernedly after him, half-standing. She shook her head, expression discerning, and Naruto couldn’t help but to laugh.

“Naruto-kun,” she scolded, voice low. “This stream is far too shallow to be so reckless. You could’ve injured your head.”

“Please,” he laughed, “Have you met me? My head’s harder than anything in these waters.”

Startled at how self-aware he apparnelty was, Hinata was caught between laughing and sighing, even as she idly edged a little closer to the water. Naruto swam a little closer, too, a new and devilish gleam in his eyes. Hinata was so busy self-consciously not meeting his gaze, however, that by the time she caught it, it was far too late. Naruto leapt up out of the water just as she said, “Naruto-kun, _don’t—_ ”

And he pulled her all the way in after him, just like that. They both emerged sputtering and laughing, before Hinata turned to him with a mighty splash. He got some water in his nose and choked on it, but when he turned back to her, dripping and glistening in the midday sun, he breathed easier. He moved towards her like a shark, low and quick, sweeping her up into his arms and dunking them both.

Naruto lost track of those around them, felt nothing but the comfortable weight of Hinata in his arms, the way the water moved around them, the way Hinata’s laughter chimed like a song. She matched him splash for splash, taunt for taunt, laughing all the while. Her smile made his heart feel heavy, but his chest feel light; an oddly bubbly sensation he couldn’t quite understand.

All he knew and all he cared about was that she was happy with him, allowing him to reach out to her.

That she was now reaching out to him.

“Naruto-kun,” she gasped, breathless from laughter. “Truce!”

“Fine, fine,” he conceded, his arms not budging from their hold around her. She didn’t make to move away, either. She hadn’t wrapped her legs around him yet, and it was just about all he’d been thinking about for the past several minutes. Her arms were around his neck, though, her fingers in his hair. He felt the heat of them even amidst the icy lap of the stream. Ahead of them he could still hear the chatter and laughter of their friends, some tanning, some still playing chicken.

“Aren’t you glad I pulled you in?” Naruto asked, turning back to look at Hinata. This close, he could see the slight wrinkles at the sides of her eyes, marked from years of smiling. Her eyes were as striking as he remembered first thinking them, when they were only kids. They seemed endless and drawing, offering a constant pull. Moons of distant galaxies, and all that. Naruto was enamored and breathless with want, and wondered almost desperately if Hinata felt similarly.

He knew she had once liked him, enough to sacrifice her safety and her life to protect his. He realized, almost suddenly, that since the battle with Pain he had never responded to her confession. The words were on his lips, brimming, begging to be said—but Hinata was looking at him with heavy eyes, lips so soft he could almost feel them a breath away. He could see her heart in her eyes, the way they softened as they traced his features.

“I am,” she said, so quietly, almost impossible to hear. He felt her legs, then, come up to wrap around his waist. She turned away from him at first, so noticeably embarrassed. “You never cease to surprise me.”

“That’s my specialty,” he boasted, puffing his chest up ridiculously while he silently had to control his body’s response to feeling her so wrapped up around him. It was his heart he couldn’t tame. And then, while he was still reeling from her unexpected daring, she surprised him again. For one precious, irreplaceable moment, Hinata dipped her head to his, allowed their foreheads to touch as she laughed under her breath. She pulled away the next moment, uncertain and guarded but still smiling. Naruto held her tighter, just against the wide breadth of his bare chest. His heart raced, and raced, and raced. “You surprise me too, you know.”

Her eyebrows jumped, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he grinned, wading through the stream, his hands moving to her thighs. It took all his willpower and Iruka’s teachings about _manners_ for him to keep them there, still and polite. He wanted desperately to search, to explore. His hands itched to touch her in any capacity that she’d allow him. He wanted to ask—it was his first instinct, to respect her boundaries but to be honest with his own desires, especially regarding her. He thought, _can I touch you, can I touch you, please, please_. But Hinata was so shy and he had known from the moment he realized he was interested in her some years ago that theirs was a journey that would take time, but would last. For her, he would go slow.

So he kept still, clutched lightly at the wealth of her thighs, and focused entirely on the way she opened herself up to him in this moment.

“Since we’re both pretty good at being _surprising_ ,” Naruto started to say, watching her eyes. Her eyebrows jumped a bit, intrigued, her eyes swirling with curiosity. With added enthusiasm, he turned Hinata so that she could see their friends grinning at them, waist deep in the stream and already prepared to meet them. “Why don’t we become our generation’s stream chicken champions?”

“Please,” Ino snorted, flicking her hair as Sakura shifted beneath her, showing far too more teeth than a friendly game of chicken called for. “As if you _could_.”

“A worthy enemy,” Shino muttered, while Neji cast him a wayward glance of pity. Rock Lee repeated the sentiment, at thrice the volume.

“Bring it,” Tenten laughed, purposely jostling Neji on her shoulders. He reached down and steadied her with a hand on her shoulder, a gentle squeeze. “We’re ready for the challenge.”

Naruto grinned and turned back to Hinata, whose cheeks rivaled the sunset. She studied him with wide eyes, a deer in headlights.

Something there must have soothed her. Maybe it was the steel in his eyes, soft and heavy-lidded with affection, watching her deliberate with their friends at their back. Maybe it was the certainty written into every line of him, so carefully encoded in his DNA, straightening his wide shoulders, the column of his neck.

Maybe it was the way he reached out to her, gave her the choice, and was so willing to accept whatever she answered with.

Whatever it was, it was beautiful. It softened every line of her, rid her of her insecurity. She gave him the subtlest of nods, the tiniest dip of her chin. He dropped under the surface and felt her legs (so soft) slide over his shoulders (so sturdy) and everything in the world felt _right_. There was no war, no fighting, no blood, no dying. There was only this: the way Hinata trusted him; the way they came together surrounded by friends; the way they shared each other with each other under an impartial sun.

He felt his feet sink into the sand beneath their feet but find purchase; he rose out of the stream with Hinata on his shoulders, one hand in his hair, his hands on her calves. She pushed her hair out of her face and in an unexpected but wondrous bout of confidence, she pointed across the water straight at the most self-assured person among them.

“You’re going _down_ ,” she promised, and Ino’s mouth dropped wide open as all their friends erupted into wild hoots and hollers, laughter interspersed amongst the taunting. Naruto glanced up at her, and Hinata glanced down at him, and he gave her calves a gentle squeeze.

“Ready?” He asked, with the chorus of their friends behind his voice. Hinata ran her hand through his hair once more, brave as he’d ever seen her, and smiled.

“Ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extras (for funsies):  
> -[hinata's bathing suit](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/13/04/09/130409f5ea09ad646b83ac0ed67caecb.jpg)  
> -[sai's summer shorts](https://cdn1.thehunt.com/app/public/system/zine_images/4471687/original/234be490e93a4c24f77614480d50e840.jpg)  
> -[naruto's swim trunks](https://i.pinimg.com/236x/d7/06/39/d706395884cfd0cea32a8d8a5baa0978--swim-trunks-etro.jpg)  
> -[shino's swim suit](http://img3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20100923011225/uncyclopedia/images/a/a9/Men%27s_Bathing_Suits.JPG)


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: ...a combination of both or you decide: "It was you the whole time." / "It's three in the morning."  
> Rating: _Teen and Up Audiences._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is _not_ a continuation/sequel to For the Future. It is completely unrelated. Thank you.

After two years on mission, Naruto came home to her breathless and bleeding, calling her name.

Her day had started normally enough; she finished an extra shift at the hospital, bought seeds from Ino’s shop, dropped them off at Shino’s place, and met Iruka for lunch. She came back to her apartment and napped, catching up on lost sleep, her body aching, her chakra depleted. She woke to the evening air coming in through her window, and Hanabi’s fingers brushing her hair from her face.

“Time for practice,” she’d said, and Hinata had smiled.

She worked her body hard, until her muscles begged for relief from movement, from strain. She laid on the tatami mats afterwards, with Hanabi at her side, and they laughed about something one of Hanabi’s teammates had done earlier that morning. When they’d exhausted most topics, they fell into a comfortable silence, lying side-by-side with their minds otherwise occupied. Hinata felt the muscles in her chest aching, making her heart feel heavy. She thought of Naruto. 

By the time she made it back to her apartment she could barely stand, exhaustion riding her hard. Still, she made herself a cup of tea and sat out on her terrace, admiring her neighborhood. Even in the silence there was no silence; Konoha was a village that never slept.

She could hear bugs chittering, birds chirping, cats meowing. Somewhere voices echoed back to her, fuzzy and indistinct. She sipped at her tea and watched the clouds filter across the sky, inching leisurely towards the mountains. The trees of Konoha spoke softly to one another, leaves flickering and dancing. Everything felt peaceful. Hinata closed her eyes and thought of Naruto, somewhere out there in the world, fighting for the peace the people of Konoha were so lucky to have. If she focused hard enough, she could almost feel his lips against her neck, his arms wrapping around her, the way his fingertips would trail over her cheek to tuck her hair behind her ear.

Something below her crashed to the ground in a shattering impact, making her jump. Her heart raced as she glanced over the railing and saw her neighbor standing over a wooden crate that was a little worse for wear, now that it’d been dropped.

“Need help with that, Hori-san?”

“No, no,” he called, waving her away. “I’ve got it under control.”

Hinata watched a moment longer to make sure he did in fact have things under control, and was satisfied only when he made it back into his place, wooden crate in hand. She turned back to the village stretched out before her with a sigh, allowing her tensed muscles to relax. There was tension in her neck, riding over her shoulders. She had never been the kind of person to complain, especially about something like this, but somehow Naruto had always known. If he was here now, she thought, he would’ve come up behind her, placed his square hands on her, rubbed the tension right out of her. She’d close her eyes and lean into the touch, his hands—large, scarred, beautiful—would play her like a fine-tuned instrument. Did he know that she’d sing any tune he wanted from her with the barest of touches? He had to have known.

A quiet breath of a noise escaped her lips; something in the same family as a sob. It reminded her of what she was missing out on, of _who_. The pain she felt was different than the kind in her muscles, different even than the still-healing laceration over her ribs. It was a quiet kind of pain, subversive and undulating. Constant in the absence of a cure. She blinked, slower than usual, and behind her eyelids she saw his smile.

She tried to focus back in on the muted sounds of life, the creatures and the trees. They were a welcome distraction from thoughts of her loneliness. It was still recent, this Hyuuga Hinata who had convinced herself that she could live without Naruto in her life, though it had taken her far longer than she was comfortable with. She had always known that she loved him, that she wanted to be with him. She had always thought that even if he never returned her feelings, he would still be in her life as a good friend, a future leader. Even though she retained hope—that he would return her feelings, that they could be together, that it would be easy—there was still a part of her that doubted.

But Naruto had a way of surprising her.

First, there were his feelings. Not longer after she fought Pain, Naruto came to her. It was the first time she’d ever seen him uncertain, stumbling for words. She’d tried to help him, even as her heart felt fractured by each word.

“Naruto-kun, it’s okay,” she’d said, playing at more strength than she’d actually felt. “I understand.”

“Do you?” He’d asked, and there’d been a wave of relief in his voice, enough to wash over her, to drown every last portal of hope. But then, in the same moment that she felt so entirely wrecked, he had moved towards her, reaching for her, pulling her in. She could still remember the strength of him, the feeling of his strong chest under her cheek. Her surprised gasp, his hum of approval. She remembered his words.

“Sometimes I just don’t know how to say it,” he’d explained, amused but frustrated. “So I just…do it. Does that make sense?”

And Hinata, wrapped up in his arms with his temple pressed against her hair, finally understood. He hadn’t been rejecting her. He’d been _accepting_ her. Returning her feelings. _Reciprocating_.

Later, she’d blame her loss of consciousness on her still-healing lethal wounds from the Pain fight, which wasn’t a total lie. She _had_ been healing. But the power of her emotions in that moment, the rush of relief and joy and understanding—Naruto liked her, too. It was overpowering.

That was only the first surprise in a line of many. He loved quicker and deeper than she had ever, ever anticipated. Her life become a series of joyful experiences with Naruto at her side, his laugher a constant, his touch even more so.

Then, the worst surprise.

 _A mission_ , he’d said, hushed and hurried in her apartment. _I’m not even supposed to be here but I couldn’t just leave like they told me to, I couldn’t just leave you. It’s gonna be long, Hinata, I don’t have an exact time yet but, oh, no, don’t do that, please don’t do that._

The weight of his words, his actions, his leaving—all of it came crashing down upon her. She bore it bravely, as well as she could, and she did not cry. She stayed strong for him but inside her heart was breaking; what did “long” even mean?

It meant that she had not seen Naruto for just over two years, since that night he’d come to her in her apartment to hold her close and disclose information that was classified. Two years since he’d leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, a promise of return breathed into her.

Then he’d vanished, leaving nothing behind but the legend of his name, his actions. She had some of his clothes in her apartment, some little knickknacks he’d brought over to share with her. She slept in his shirt nearly every night, and his shorts every other. In those two years she did not stray, even when people came to her and asked for her time, her affection. Her friends were supportive and encouraging—told her constantly that this was _Naruto_ , of course he’d come home soon.

Two years.

Hinata closed her eyes and listened to the trees. Her hands clenched tighter around her mug, pressing it to her lips just so she could feel the heat. For a moment, she was thoroughly distracted by her surroundings. She listened, she breathed.

But then she found herself listening to something else, an outlier, strange and unversed.

An echo, a voice. Unlike those that still rung through the streets. It rang lowly through the walls around her neighborhood, bouncing off wood and plaster. It curled around her with a strange kind of familiarity, made her heart race and her breath catch. _No_ , she thought, suddenly overcome with equal parts doubt and hope. Unconsciously, she glanced towards the Hokage tower, as if she could see through the distance and the walls to the people within. If she activated her Byakugan, maybe, maybe—

And then— _There_ , A flash of orange.

Hinata’s breath caught in her chest and her mug slipped through her fingers, a quieter echo of shattering than the crate just before it. She was the last to shatter. There, sliding to a stop just within view, was Uzumaki Naruto.

He—

“Hinata!” He called, and the edge of desperation in his voice was what made her _move_. She leapt over the railing and only paused to land safely on her sore muscles before running towards him, his name already curled around her tongue. He ran to her, quicker than she remembered him being, and swept her up into his arms in an instant. They held onto each other tightly, temples touching for only a moment before they pulled away, his hands on her cheeks, hers on his chest, their foreheads touching. Tears streamed down her cheeks to meet his thumbs, and he whispered her name into the air between them like a prayer.

“Naruto-kun,” she breathed, shaken and breathless, her words coming faster than her thoughts. “You’re home. Welcome home. Are you hurt? Are you okay?” _I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you_.

Naruto leaned forwards and took her lips between his own, pressed as close to her as he could. Neither of them cared about the stares, the chattering of bystanders passing by. There was no one outside of one another—Naruto lifted her jaw for a better angle and whispered comforts against the softness of her lips. She brought her hands up to grasp his nape, to hold him to her, her fingers sliding into his hair—longer than she remembered.

“I’m okay,” he said, his voice trembling. “Shit, no. I’m not okay. I’m not gonna lie to you. I don’t have to pretend with you.”

She felt the quiver in him and instantly wrapped her arms around him, regardless of how exhausted she was herself. She took much of his weight upon herself, helping to hold him up, and guided him into the shelter of her arms. She shepherded him towards her front door, up the steps and into the safety of her space.

She hummed to him, a soothing rumble against his ribs, and watched him wilt over her. She assessed him even as she comforted him, searching for injury, finding only dried blood. There was a cut on his chest, but it was minor. Bleeding but not serious.

“Where are you hurt?” She asked, her voice quiet and soothing. She sat him on her couch and moved between his knees, looking up at him with her hands on his waist. She expected him to gesture to his chest, a broken rib she might’ve missed—that would explain the quivering—or a limp she’d somehow overlooked. Instead, he surprised her completely by pointing instead to his temples, gripping his own face.

“Here,” he said, a moment before he broke down in her arms. “Here.”

Hinata’s heart broke, and broke, and broke. Naruto’s trauma was internal, trapped and relentless in his mind, his memories; what he had seen and what he had done, all of it. She moved into him, wrapping her arms around his head, pulling him into the shelter of her care. She tucked his face against her neck and hummed a tune that Kurenai had taught her as a child.

Naruto’s breathing eventually evened out, and this, the most recent surprise: he fell asleep in her arms. She was still kneeling between his legs, taking all of his weight. She shifted carefully, barely jostling him, laying him down along the couch. She settled him there as comfortable as she could, and stood to retrieve a blanket from the den. Before she could move a step away, his fingers were around her wrist, gently pulling her towards him. When she glanced back at him his eyes were heavy, puffy, but open and watchful.

“Stay,” he said, just this side of questioning, and so completely vulnerable. “Please.”

“Alright,” she responded, easily. She crawled over him until the couch cushions pressed against her back, and wrapped herself around him as best as she could. She held him close and tight, pulling him into her heat, allowing herself to become the shelter he needed. His breathing evened out not long after, and Hinata marveled at the sudden change in her reality.

Naruto was _here_. He was home, and he had come to her _first_. And he was hurting. There was no way for her to prepare for his return, though she had always imagined preparing a party for him last-minute, since there was no way for her to actually plan around his surprise return. Still, she’d imagined their friends coming together around him, going dancing, eating together. She’d never imagined _this_ ; Naruto broken and barely holding it together, laying on her couch in her arms in the silence of her apartment.

She laid there awake for hours, unable to sleep, comfortable just being present for him when he so clearly needed her. She rubbed her cheek gently against his back, trying to soothe him further even as he was unconscious. Her mind raced around the possibilities of what could’ve broken him down like this, and she shied away from all of them. Naruto was easily the strongest person that she knew, both physically and mentally. So for him to have experienced events overpowering enough to turn his strength into shambles? The thought was frightening, disheartening.

Eventually, with troubled thoughts and constant worries on her mind, Hinata fell asleep against him. She woke briefly in the dark of night when she felt him shifting, but fell asleep soon after when she felt his fingers over her cheek, brushing her hair behind her ear. It was a gesture she knew so well and had missed so much she didn’t even realize that tears had formed, even as she fell back into unconsciousness.

She didn’t feel Naruto sneak out, most likely to debrief as he should have immediately, and she didn’t feel him return, either. She must’ve been more exhausted than she’d initially thought. She woke at last in the early morning when she felt his hands running rhythmically through her hair, right above her ear. She blinked her eyes open and found him facing her, one leg wrapped over the curve of her hips, pulling her into him. His hand supported his head as he gazed down at her. He didn’t bother to hide the affection there, such open fondness for her that she felt herself flushing despite herself.

“Good morning,” she whispered, watching his lips rise into an ever-familiar lazy morning smile.

“Good morning,” he repeated, leaning down to kiss her forehead, her cheek, her jaw line. “Thank you, Hinata.”

She frowned, shaking her head. “No need,” she began in a whisper, not wanting to break the quiet they’d come awake into. Naruto continued to run his fingers through her hair, pausing once to trail his thumb over her lips. He shook his head, still smiling her favorite gentle smile.

“Thank you,” he said again, despite her rebuff. “I’ve missed you.”

He so easily said what she had thought upon seeing him. She glanced over his shoulder, saw the time glaring back at her in angry red numbers, and frowned.

“Naruto-kun,” she said, “It’s three in the morning. You should sleep.”

“I can’t sleep,” he said honestly, gazing at her. He didn’t attempt to hide from her, not with his body language or any emotional walls. He laid himself bare and let her see it all. She felt his fingers against her skin, again and again. “I was worried.”

Hinata inched closer to him, waking up entirely to give him her full attention.

“What has you worried?” She asked gently, reaching out to grasp his waist, her hand a familiar anchor he could take respite in. His eyes jumped between hers, wide and watchful.

“You’ll think it’s silly,” he said with a huff, a quiet laugh. “Especially considering how fucked up I was last night.”

“Naruto-kun,” Hinata scolded, shaking her head. “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

“I know,” he said, and the tone of his voice told her that this, too, was a wonder to him. That he could tell her anything and she would still be here, with him and for him, always. For someone who had grown up for several years as a young boy without parents, guidance, friends, or any source of affection—this was an undeniably overwhelming change. But Hinata persisted in reminding him of it, until he would never be surprised at her continued affection for him ever again.

Naruto sat up and Hinata followed suit, shifting around each other to fit on her narrow couch and still be touching.

“Yesterday—there was just a lot. I don’t think I can talk about it right now. But last night, and this morning, I was worried about other things.”

She watched him watch her, studying her reaction to the words he hadn’t even yet spoken. He coiled a tuft of her hair around his finger, let it fall away, and repeated the gesture.

“There’s been so much on my mind, these past two years. So much has happened. But I just—I could never stop thinking about if you’d moved on from me, ya know? I’d understand why. Two years is a long freakin’ time, and before yesterday you didn’t even know if I’d be gone even longer, right?”

“Right,” Hinata answered softly, and Naruto cringed, accepting her honesty and the way it validated something in his mind.

“Right,” he repeated, swallowing. “So I just got to thinking. What if she doesn’t want me anymore? What if I blew it? Like after you waited so long for me to get my shit together and realize you’re literally the best thing to ever happen to me, what if I screwed that up? What if someone cool and strong came along and treated you the way I should have been here to treat you all along and you fell for them and it’s so shitty, I know it’s shitty, but I’d hate it. I don’t know where you’re at or what you’re thinking or if you even still want me and yet this is what you do. You take me in, no questions asked, and you take care of me. Fuck, you take care of me in a way I probably don’t deserve. A way I’ve never known. Your heart is so special and I don’t think I deserve it, but damned if I don’t want it. Want _you_.”

Hinata could barely breathe around Naruto’s ramblings, the way his mind leapt from piece to jagged piece of what she now understood to be insecurities. He’d thought she’d move on without him? That she could ever, ever feel anything for someone else that would amount to anything more than a candle to the sunburst inferno of love she felt for _him_?

Uzumaki Naruto, who acted first and never questioned his own intuition and feelings, was _afraid_. Worried, he’d said. About _her_ feelings for _him_.

It was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard, but Naruto wasn’t finished.

“Even when I was out there in the thick of it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Wondering if you were safe, if you were still living in this apartment, sleeping in my shirt.” Hinata’s cheeks overturned, a slow rushing of heat. Naruto watched her unblinkingly, unafraid of expressing himself, so unlike her in his extroverted nature. “And you are, you’re safe, you’re here, you’re wearing my shirt. And Hinata, I have to ask. I need to know if you’re still mine. I need to know that this,” he gestured to the space between them, the space around them, her comfort and her home, “Isn’t just your kindness. I know you’d take in anyone who needed aid or comfort, I know it, but you let me kiss you. You brought me into your home and you held me. I need to know if that’s for me. If you’re still mine, the way I’m still yours.”

His tone was almost begging, and Hinata hated the uncharacteristic uncertainty in it. She reached out to him, let her hands rest on the strong lines of his jaw. She closed her eyes for only a moment, letting their foreheads touch, her eyelashes grazing over the apples of his cheeks.

“Naruto-kun,” she began, ever quiet, ever sincere. “You’re right. I would help anyone who needed it, and I’d try to take care of them to my utmost abilities.”

She watched him absorb those words like a blow, flinching even as he remained in her hold. She pulled back, still holding onto him, and waited for him to meet her eyes. She let the steel in her shine through, the certainty and the confidence.

“But _this_ ,” she said, leaning forward to press her lips against his, tender and chaste but with a depth of feeling, “Is yours. Has always been yours.”

Hinata felt herself blush as his gaze became more and more intense, the feeling behind it almost palpable between them. “You’re my special person,” she continued shakily, her embarrassment rearing its ugly head. “You always have been, ever since we were little. And you are still today, and you will be tomorrow. And you will be always.”

“I kept thinking I can’t lose you before I ever really got to have you,” he croaked, desperation tearing at his vocal chords. “I know that’s not fair to say, since I was the one making you wait. But I get it now. I’m shit for timing but I love you, and if I’m being honest I just couldn’t bear it if you were with someone else. I’d fight for you. I’d never stop trying until—unless you told me to.”

 _Selfish_ , she thought, not without fondness. She could’ve admonished him, playful and wry, but Naruto was a patchwork of shattered pieces, barely holding himself together. She didn’t need the Byakugan to see that much. So instead, she treated him gently, her scarred hands reaching out to the jagged broken pieces of him, hoping to heal. She couldn’t help but to wonder what had caused this—what had made him hurt so strongly in this way, enough to make him come to her even before attending his mission debriefing.

“Silly,” she whispered, voice gentle enough to comfort. She molded the words in the barest form of honesty she had in her: straight from her heart, with fragments of her soul. “It was you the whole time.”

Naruto looked up and watched her eyes, the shape of her lips. He studied the changes in her, the shifts, the slopes, seeking truth. He would find it in the hand she reached out to him, sliding through the hair above his ear; the way she leaned into him, lips against his forehead, her eyelashes ghosting over his skin; the way she hummed in his ear, soothing and comforting and promising all in one that it would be _okay_. Whatever was hurting him, they would face together. How he could ever, ever think that she could be anyone else but _his_ was unthinkable.

Naruto sighed, a great gust of breath that wilted his shoulders with relief. His smile made a comeback just in time to steal her heart again, and he pulled her into his lap with ease. He nuzzled against her and hummed lightly, rocking them together as she rested her cheek on his chest, just under his chin.

“I love you,” he said easily, quietly, with a sincerity that nearly unraveled her. And it was a marvel that they had made it here, together, wrapped up in each other’s arms, so easily able to express the way they feel.

“I love you too,” she whispered, smiling, feeling lighter than she had in months, in years. Naruto held her close, and Hinata closed her eyes. Against his chest, she could hear the rhythmic thudding of his heart. His breath stirred her hair. Her heart settled into a comfortable pace.

They became one another’s shelter, and it was easy.

And it was enough.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a belated birthday fic for [lilac-puta](http://lilac-puta.tumblr.com/)! This one’s for you; thank you for being so incredibly kind. Hope it's okay. ❤️
> 
> NaruHina Prompt (that I used on my own): “What are you more afraid of? That she gave you her heart? Or that you’d gladly give yours in return?”  
> Rating: _Teen and Up Audiences._

“What is your _problem_?”

Naruto stopped walking, felt his hands curl into fists; an uncharacteristically quick temper. He turned and watched the way Sakura’s eyes ripped into him, leaving no room for excuses.

“Nothing,” he said through his teeth, too much snarl for the composure he was trying to play at. “I don’t have a _problem_.”

“Right,” Sakura said, voice dripping in sarcasm. She lifted her chin, tilted her head. Widened her stance. She exuded confidence, a veil of composure over her rising ire. Had Naruto not known her better, he would’ve missed the subtle tells of her rising anger; the way her hands shook, and the veins in her throat began to stand out against the pallor of her skin. “You’re just totally busy, is that it? Prospective Hokage and all, you must have so much on your plate. War hero returned home and so many people to talk to now. Maybe too many, huh? Fame must be so harsh, huh?”

Naruto turned to her fully, a sharp movement that would’ve had anyone else on the defensive. Sakura only rose to the challenge, taking a step closer, seething. “You’re wrong!” He snapped, slipping. “That’s not it at all and you _know_ it. That’s not me. I was never any of those things, not really, not until—”

“What? Until you _were_?” Every line of Sakura was an executioner: her gaze the rope, her words the blade. He felt the danger of it hovering over his throat; a single misstep and she would slice into him. “ _Are_. You _are_ those things. But to think that they’d change you like this,” Sakura shook her head, a shade of vulnerability smoothing through her eyes. He couldn’t tell if it was real or feigned, drawing on his heartstrings with a methodical hand.

“I haven’t changed,” he snarled, defensive and careless of his own well-being. He shook his head, hands rising to tunnel through his messy hair. “I’m still me. Just Naruto. Like I’ve always been. But things—they’re different, Sakura-chan. The world is what changed around me.”

“That’s bullshit,” Sakura said, laughing, shaking her head as her arms folded over her chest. She rested her weight in her right hip, never turning away from him. Even her body language was sharp, unwavering, never one to back down. “The world is always changing. You aren’t the axis it revolves around. Or are you? Maybe that’s why it’s so hard for you to find a spare bit of time, huh?”

Naruto felt his head spinning, his world tunneling. His frustration rose and overcame his anger, for only a moment. “What?”

“So many new people to see.” Sakura continued blithely, never once breaking her stare from his. Her eyes narrowed, and he saw the way her lips were careful with her next words; an explosive payload carefully edging a landmine. “It must be a nice change from when you were younger.”

Kurama stirred for the first time in his mindsight, unfurling from a long slumber. He felt the beast of him in his throat, thrumming his vocal cords.

“ _Sakura_ ,” he growled, nearly guttural with mixed parts frustration, confusion, and anger.

Sakura flipped her hair, purposefully careless.

“I get it,” she said, and her voice was softer, properly reprimanded. “I do, Naruto, but if you’re going to let this change you the way I think it is, I’m not going to stand for it.”

Naruto frowned, tension in every line of him. “I don’t know how to explain it. You know I’m shit with words.”

Sakura’s sympathy was edged in brutal honesty. “Usually that’s okay. Sometimes I’m sure it’s even charming. But not always.”

“I can’t help it! I don’t know what to say. I just…do it. It’s so much easier than words.”

“Interesting that you say that,” Sakura tilted her head, studying him. “Because you haven’t done _shit_ , and that’s the reason we’re here right now.”

Naruto clenched his fist, arm muscles straining. “I don’t _get it_.”

Sakura’s anger was a multifaceted monster behind the green of her eyes, passing through the brightest shades in shadowed jades.

“You want me to speak plainly? Lay it out nice and easy for you?”

Naruto knew she didn’t mean to sound condescending, and felt no pain from her tone. He moved closer to her, resolute, wanting to understand, and said, “ _Yes_.”

The unseen blade hanging over him flickered, catching the sunlight; Sakura’s eyes brightened, then narrowed, and she said only this: “ _Hinata_.”

And Naruto’s expression shifted before he could even think to hide it. He wouldn’t have, though. Not from Sakura, not from anyone. He watched the way she watched him, how her gradual comprehension shifted from disbelief to something else, something closer to acceptance. As though some part of her she had not let herself believe had expected it. She laughed, wholly without humor.

“So you know.” She shook her head, breaking eye contact for the first time to look down at the ground between them. He watched her try to find the words and felt lower than he had in a long, long time. He felt like a coward.

Sakura studied his expression and her gaze tore him apart, into fragmented pieces she could study, both separate and together. He could see the question in her, the confusion. He could see her wrestling with it, trying to figure out why he was behaving the way he was.

At last, almost in disbelief, Sakura laughed once more. No humor, only mystification.

“Naruto,” she asked, her voice pitched low, sincere. “Are you afraid?”

And there it was. He hadn’t even totally known it himself, until she’d said it outright. He’d known that there was _something_ holding him back from seeking Hinata out, from answering her confession. She’d nearly died to deliver it, and yet he couldn’t even muster the courage to go to her? _Coward,_ he thought, a thrum of the monster in him still trembling in his inner voice. But still, still he had run. Avoided her, until Sakura stamped him into a corner and said everything he had already been thinking, with more clarity and less confusion.

He was afraid.

Sakura couldn’t believe it, either. She shook her head and that same fake, disbelieving laugh kept falling from her lips. It twisted something in him every time he heard it, an ache of sorts, but he knew he deserved it. Because he’d been afraid, Hinata was somewhere out there probably so confused and hurt and he was the cause. She’d nearly died for him, pierced right through the heart, and he’d only been strong enough to visit her in the hospital before consciousness returned to her.

He remembered Sakura’s words, biting and true: _To think they’d change you like this._ Maybe he _was_ changing—changed. He didn’t like it.

“This is not you,” Sakura said, strangely in tune with his thoughts. “This is not _you_.”

True to form, he didn’t have any words for her. Words had never been easy for him, and were rarely forthcoming unless in the most desperate of moments. That was, simply, the root of all of this. His inability to voice his feelings.

Where had his courage gone?

Sakura moved close, reached out and touched his shoulder. It nearly shattered him, though there was no force to it, no added chakra. She pulled away a moment later, peering up to see him clearly as he stared at his feet. He knew she could see so clearly how he was hurting, folding in on himself, but Sakura had _never_ been one to let himself meddle in weakness. Not hers, or others’, or his own.

She waited for him to meet her eyes. Her voice was quiet, sensitive to the ache in him, but still unwaveringly direct.

“What are you so afraid of?” Sakura asked, and Naruto felt the fingers of this newly recognized fear wrap around his heart, and squeeze. “That she gave you her heart?”

(It was sudden, in the way repressed trauma often is, the way he remembered the stark feeling of loneliness from his childhood. Unbidden and heavy, it spread through him, sloshed up against his ribs. He remembered the way people used to look through him, before he was a prospect, before he was a hero, and he thought, _how could anyone ever love me?_ )

“Or that you’d gladly give yours in return?”

The blade hanging over his head, crafted from Sakura’s words, released

Naruto looked up with wet eyes and the truth of Sakura’s words carving into his chest, and it was at that moment that the world around them exploded into chaos.

 

✧

 

Restructuring Konoha was difficult, exhausting, and slow. Every day there was improvement; more buildings stacking up, more wires stretching wide, more lights coming back on in local businesses. There were setbacks, too. The cost of reconstruction was astronomical. Everyone had to pitch in, do their part. Help rebuild.

The morning Sakura came to him for answers, a seven-story building crashed down around them. Both of them were strong, and quick, and able to get out safely. But there were civillians, too, and Sakura and Naruto both quickly forgot about their own troubles and dove back into the rubble. Sakura lifted debris only her inhuman strength could manage, and Naruto cloned himself nearly to exhaustion to ensure that he could cover every facet of rubble for the wounded, for survivors.

By the time they managed to get everyone out—alive, but with many wounded—they were surrounded by shinobi of many generations. All coming to civilian aid.

Naruto called for aid where he needed it and directed Sakura where he knew her strengths would be emphasized. The panic of so much building being on so many _people_ had him reacting with confidence borne of intuition, so much so that Sakura didn’t even question his sudden role of authority. He must’ve been doing something right. As more and more shinobi raced to the scene, Naruto gave more and more orders via his clones. He sent his clones into the most dangerous areas—should they perish, he would feel nothing but their gained knowledge for a second attempt. Those risky situations sometimes required aid, and he guided shinobi of all generations to safely and efficiently retrieve the wounded, the living.

He lost track of time and the surprise on people’s faces when they saw that he seemed to be in charge of this operation—even after his sensei, their Hokage, joined the scene—and focused narrow-mindedly on the task at hand. Get these people to safety. _Quickly._ There was only so much air under the rubble, only so much time before this fallen building might collapse in on itself once more. He would not let people be crushed beneath Konoha again—not when he was here and he could _stop it_.

The sun inched across the sky. The cloud formations changed, waned. The pastels of the morning sky leveled out into ever blue.

The one true Naruto came from the rubble, covered in soot and powdered stone, with an elderly woman cradled in his arms. He moved carefully over the jagged stones, made sure not to jostle her. She was quiet but still breathing, a stream of blood by her temple, her wrist. The medics came quickly, rushing towards him and taking her from his arms. He watched her go with heavy, exhausted eyes. His chest felt even heavier. He heard shuffling footsteps come up to his side and turned to see Inuzuka Kiba gently set down the last victim of the crash: a young girl, wailing and crying, whose mother came rushing forwards from the masses to bring her into her arms.

“Is that all of them?” Kiba asked, as they both watched the child’s mother press kisses to the young girl’s face, muttering something in quiet repetition into her skin. It sounded like gratitude. Like a prayer. She turned and headed for the medics, already over her shoulder and assessing the girl, and Naruto found himself unable to look away from her until she was completely out of his field of view. He saw a flash of a pink tail of hair, dancing back and forth under the hastily constructed medic stations. He could hear Sakura giving orders, calling for supplies, demanding support and presence where needed. She was a leader of her own making, efficient and clinical.

Naruto’s next exhale was substantial, taking more than giving. His eyes fell shut and though he felt weary enough for a breeze to blow him over, he stood still and tall and tuned out the noise around him. He focused inwardly and in one smooth movement he cast away each and every one of his clones. Around them there was a systematic expulsion of air; a series of _pop-pop-pop_ ’s the only noticeable sign of Naruto’s sudden lack of presence all around the accident site.

“Yes,” he breathed, low and gritty. He saw with the eyes of hundreds, heard with the ears of hundreds, and felt his intuition a hundred fold: “Yes,” he said again, with absolute iron. “That’s all of them.”

Kiba breathed a sigh of relief and clapped a simple hand to Naruto’s shoulder before moving off, heading down towards the area of triage. He would probably ask if they needed any help. Naruto should have been doing that, too—Sakura always spoke highly of the kindness of total strangers in times of emergency, just as much as she spoke of their proclivity for getting in the way of medical efficiency. Even as Naruto turned in the other direction, he saw Kiba being waved off and away. _Let us work_ , the medics seemed to say. _Let us work_.

Naruto had something other than triage in mind. With the clarity of hindsight and the emergency behind him, he filed back through his data and realized something important. Out of all the hundreds of clones he’d created, he’d encountered countless Hyuuga shinobi but not once had he seen Hyuuga Hinata.

Naruto was distracted as he moved away from the site, the weight of leadership leaving him feeling bowed in. He only managed a few steps alone before he saw a sweeping shadow intersect his own, diamond-topped and slouching. Kakashi’s visible eye was crinkled when Naruto turned to look at him, and his Hokage regalia swished around his ankles as he fell into Naruto’s pace.

“Yo,” he greeted, and Naruto managed a weak smile in response.

“Sensei.”

Kakashi’s slouch seemed more pronounced than usual, which was saying a lot. Naruto wondered offhandedly if leadership was bending him the way it was pressing into Naruto.

“This was some accident, huh?”

Naruto nodded. “I’m just glad everyone made it out.”

“And you know for sure they did?”

Naruto didn’t bristle at the insinuation. He was used to Kakashi pushing him, testing him. He only said, “Yes. I’m sure.”

“Oh good,” Kakashi said lightly, accepting. He whistled some aimless tune for a moment and Naruto could feel his repeated glances in Naruto’s direction. He said nothing for a long time, though, and together they walked into the belly of Konoha, through the slim streets no longer crowded with people. No one seemed alarmed that the Hokage was missing, simply taking a stroll with a (former) student through the afternoon streets.

After a long stretch of silence but for the scuff of their sandals, Kakashi cleared his throat.

He said, “You did well, Naruto.”

And Naruto could hear Iruka’s influence there, in-between the tones of Kakashi’s voice. Kakashi wasn’t one for easy compliments, but he paid them where they were due. Since having become closer to Iruka, however, Kakashi had begun to be more vocal about his feelings towards Naruto especially. Naruto sometimes wondered curiously how Iruka and Kakashi spoke of him behind closed doors.

He glanced up at Konoha’s current Hokage and allowed himself another weak smile, a simple tilt of his lips in one corner.

“We all did,” he admitted, nodding his head. “So many people came to help so quickly. At first it was just like, Sakura-chan and I. The building came down around us. We were just outside of it, right against the wall. But then it was like _everyone_ was there. It really helped.”

“And you led them.”

Naruto cast his eyes away, studying the dirt road ahead of them. He scuffed his foot over a stone, watched it dance.

“I was just—there. I did what I had to.”

He looked up and Kakashi looking down at him proudly, the light catching in his one visible eye.

“You did,” he agreed, tucking his hands idly in his pockets. “And what you had to do was guide them.”

“Anyone could’ve done it,” Naruto grumbled, feeling a little stubborn, a little childish. Undeserving of Kakashi’s pride. “Sakura probably would’ve if I hadn’t opened my big mouth first.”

“Your big mouth,” Kakashi laughed, “Just helped save hundreds of lives that would’ve otherwise been needlessly wasted in a freak accident. Take the compliment, Naruto. You deserve it.”

Naruto turned and studied Kakashi’s expression as his sensei gazed distractedly up into the top windows of a building they passed, and the row of birds chirping from the guardrails there. Finally, Naruto glanced away with a muttered, “Whatever.”

From the corner of his eyes he saw Kakashi smirk, and then he felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder, different than Kiba’s—heavier and accompanied with a squeeze. Less hesitant. More purposeful.

“You’re doing well,” he said, and then something came to his mind that made him laugh, a single huff. He said, “Isn’t it your motto? ‘Believe it.’”

Naruto shrugged off his hand not without humor, his smile more genuine, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“Stop,” he laughed, and Kakashi’s eye crinkled a moment before he vanished altogether. Naruto wasn’t even surprised by this. He’d been Kakashi’s student too long for his abrupt and usually awkward absences to be anything but expected.

Naruto stuffed his hands back in his pockets, and his smile remained. He though Kakashi was probably heading back home, to Iruka. He’d probably tell him about this, which was embarrassing, and knowing Kakashi he’d probably want a reward of some kind. Naruto hoped it wasn’t the expensive meat he’d brought Iruka home the previous night—that was for _him_ and Iruka. They could share with Kakashi, but if he took it himself…

Naruto heard himself laugh, low and under his breath, and the joy of it refreshed him. It seemed bizarre, now, that he’d just helped orchestrate a rescue alongside Sakura and now he was concerned about the security of a meal he’d secured for Iruka and him and their stray of a follower, their Hokage. Had someone told him that _this_ would be his life several years ago, he would’ve socked ‘em one for mocking him.

But it was real, and it was good—harsh, at times, and scary, too, but that only helped to emphasize the good. He had to lift his face up to the light at any chance he got. He couldn’t close himself in, let fear or anger block out the light.

Cowardice was a trait that belonged in the shadows; it was time to put it behind him. He found himself winding through the streets with a new kind of determination, purpose in every line of his steps. It didn’t take him long to find the Hyuuga compound. He looked up at the mighty gates, the thick panes of wood that separated them from the rest of Konoha. Should he knock? Should he just break in? That was poor manners. Iruka would never approve.

Was she even here? If she wasn’t at the rescue, there was a very specific reason _why_. He wondered over it curiously for only a moment before he became aware of his heart beating. It was distracting; he could feel it in his fingertips, his chest, his throat. This was it, then.

Fear.

He lifted his hand to the gates but he didn’t knock. He rested his palm against the wood and allowed his forehead to do the same. He closed his eyes and he remembered the pain of rods striking through muscle and bone, searing and tearing. He remembered the way his entire body had trembled, and then just— _stopped_. A complete absence of movement. It had taken him every ounce of strength he had to simply raise his head, to regain control of his vocal cords. Every word had been a tear. A new wound. Pain stood across the field and his words and the hatred in them hurt, too.

All of it, the punctures and the hatred, paled so absolutely in comparison to seeing her body come crashing down into the earth.

_I wanted to walk beside you all the time._

The way she rose to her feet after every crushing blow, determination carving her from marble.

_I just wanted to be with you._

Her body in the air, ragdoll loose, extended and sacrificial before the inevitable fall.

_You changed me._

The way the breath had left him, and the way it struggled back into him. (Breaking, he thought then, and now, and entering).

_Your smile is what saved me._

The crater of her undoing.

_That is why I’m not afraid to die protecting you._

Pain’s hand rising into the air, the rod materializing in his palm.

_Because,_

The complete and total absence of sound, of existence; everything in Naruto’s world narrowing down to this one moment: the silence of violence right before the end.

_I love you._

Naruto’s eyes opened and he leapt over the gate. Sage mode was a familiar and sharply fitting persona to welcome as he moved through the Hyuuga gardens. He felt his senses heighten and searched the entire grounds for her chakra signature; he found it easily. It was gentle and dancing, in constant temperate movement. In a sea of stillness versus rapids, she was the calm of a stream; sustaining, welcoming, and beautiful.

In the most frightening and dire of moments, Hinata had not allowed herself to bend under the power of fear and cowardice. She had materialized in front of the embodiment of Pain and given her life without hesitation for the one that she loved—for _him_.

It had taken him so long to understand; he still felt like he couldn’t fully comprehend—how could anyone ever, ever love _him?_ But _oh_ , he realized, suddenly breathless and joyful. She loved him. She _loved_ him. And if the way his heart lurched the moment he felt her chakra signature or began to race whenever he saw her was any indication, he was pretty certain he loved her too. More than a friend. That was an important distinction, somehow. That what he felt for her, indiscernible to someone like him who had grown up bereft of all reciprocated feeling, was somehow still easily identifiable as _more_.

More, more, more.

He chased her signature with a smile that brought crinkles to the sides of his eyes and ignored completely the stuttered gasps of those guarding the doors of the room within which she knelt. Naruto was moving too quickly to really study the architecture or the design, but it was easy enough even for him to know.

She was in a temple.

Naruto slipped past the guards with ease and burst into the giant and ornate room without hesitation. They sputtered behind him, one calling out a frustrated, “You can’t be here!” While the other gasped, “Hinata-sama, apologies—”

Hinata rose from her kneeling position in a swirling military-grade defensive posture that stole Naruto’s breath for how equally lethal and beautiful it was. She held no weapons, but she didn’t need them. Her hands, her eyes, her resolve—these were enough.

Naruto raked his eyes over her keenly, and it confused him just as much as it made sense to him; that he had spent so much time not understanding his own feelings for her that now that he had realized them he felt a man starved of her. He felt everything intensely, and suddenly, and he knew that he owed her so much more than _this_ , a brash intrusion into her home and her private routine, but—

He had to get to her. It seemed the most urgent thing in the world. Hundreds of people had almost died in a freak accident, a seven-story building toppling down without any discernible cause, and she loved him. She was kind and strong and beautiful and she _loved him_.

Naruto’s heart was racing, pulling him towards her even as his eyes took her in. She was ready for battle, in more than just her form. She was still wearing her mission fatigues, and there were tears and blood stains in the material. Her feet were bare, however, and Naruto realized he was trekking dirt and stone powder into a place she held as holy. His cheeks felt a sudden influx of heat but he was too close to turn back, even to take off his sandals.

He watched the subtle realization spill over her expression; how the dilated veins beside her eyes waned and her expression opened in brightened surprise. Her mouth fell open slightly and her hands came back down to her sides. Her hair was loose and messy, knotted and in disarray. She must’ve just returned from a mission. That explained her absence at the accident.

“Hinata,” he breathed, and it was then that he felt more than noticed the other presences in the room. Hinata had not been praying alone. Twelve members of her family held their postures, defensively aggressive, and Naruto felt a bead of sweat form on his temple. Each of them glared, the expression far more terrifying with the power of their bloodline limits behind their eyes.

“Naruto-kun,” she breathed in return, still startled enough for her words to be a gasp of sorts. “What are you—”

“I’m sorry,” he hurried to say, stepping closer, uncaring suddenly of their audience and the danger they posed. He heard the distinct rumble of disapproval from somewhere in the corner and wondered if Akamaru was in here, too. “I mean, I’m not sorry I’m here, or that I found you. But like breaking and entering isn’t cool. I’m not entirely sorry for that either, because this is important and I had to do it now, ya know? It was urgent.”

Hinata shook her head, slowly as if dazed. “What?”

Naruto was close enough now that if he reached out he could feel the softness of her cheek beneath his fingertips. And he did. He reached out to her and she didn’t shy away, though her blush became more and more pronounced. He traced the slope of her cheekbone down to the hinge of her jaw; he trailed his fingertips over her jawline and found gentle purchase on her chin. He lifted gently until she was looking him right in the eyes, and he ran his thumb over her chin once more before pulling his hand back.  
  
He smiled, and the power and intensity of the joy of his recent understanding and acceptance brought tears to his eyes. They swirled but didn’t fall, and he couldn’t help but to laugh at her startled reaction.

“Hinata,” he said, and even her name was a balm on his soul. “Hinata, I think I love you.”

Naruto had forgotten again about their audience until their verbal responses to his confession began to filter around the room. Many of them were disapproving, nearly violently so, with a common air of surprise. Most of them, however, were quiet. Watchful. Watching—Hinata. Almost as if they were expectant.

Hinata blinked once, then twice in quick succession, and didn’t move. Her eyes were so wide and it was taking every ounce of his control to keep himself still, to respect her personal space and let her come to terms with what his feelings mean to her now, so many weeks after her own confession. Naruto hadn’t even considered the possibility that she might’ve moved on, and it was a swift and terrifying thought at the forefront of his mind. He felt a turbid kind of movement in his gut that reeked of irrational jealousy before his heart was distracted again by Hinata’s hand rising to her chest. It rested over her heart and he wondered almost desperately if it was racing like his, pulling, like his.

“Naruto-kun,” she asked, “Are you alright?”

Naruto wanted to laugh, and so he did. “I’m great! Believe it!”

It didn’t occur to him that Hinata, having experienced silence in response to her confession for weeks on end and who had been struggling with insecurity—wondering if maybe she should come to terms with Naruto not wanting her back after all—would be suspicious of a sudden confession.

For Naruto, there was only this: the way Hinata did not shy away from him, her strength and her kindness unending; the way the candlelight in this room transformed her into something ethereal and magnificent, even while exhausted and battle-ready; the way that Naruto now understood his feelings so incredibly clearly without allowing himself to feel fear of the unknown and how absolutely, extraordinarily freeing he felt because of it.

He wanted to share this feeling with her. He watched her take him in, studying him carefully, and he could see the way hope was reigning above all other emotions within her. It was in her eyes, all in her eyes, the way the flames in the room paled in comparison to the light in her eyes. Naruto could have fallen in love with that look over and over again. He felt himself drawn towards her and it felt almost as though his very life perched on the end of her lips, the cliff of every possible word that she could utter in response to him baring his soul to her.

And then, extraordinarily, as Naruto imagined an angel might slip past the barrier of heaven to trail the gold of sunlit joy into the land of humans, Hinata reached through the air between them and allowed herself to touch the strong line of his jaw. She could have turned him to stone with that touch; shattered him with a finger.

Instead, she trailed his features in just the same way that he had trailed hers, in reverse. His chest felt tight, drawn in, and he waited as patiently as he could for her to say something, _anything_.

Her thumb trailed over his cheekbone and bravely dropped to trail over his lips. He watched Hinata suck in her breath, surprised at her own movement, her eyes leaping up to his to make sure this was okay.

Naruto had to move. He reached up and grasped her wrist, so gently, and pulled lightly until her palm was against his cheek. He pressed against her there, closed his eyes for only a moment, lost in her, and whispered almost reverently, “This is real.”

When he opened his eyes, there were tears in hers. Embarrassed as Hinata’s nature was often inclined to be, she didn’t even look at those in the room, who Naruto only just again realized were present. Instead, she took a step closer to him, hesitant in a way only Hinata could be after Naruto had just laid himself bare before her. Her movement was a door suddenly opened to him, and he walked through it with the same confidence that Hinata had had when she’d stood between him and Pain after he had decimated their entire village.

He pulled her into the warmth of his chest and pressed his lips to her forehead, then her temple. He felt her nestled against him and heard at last the shuffling of feet, the rustling of clothing as her family members left the room. At last they were alone, this private moment something between just the two of them. He heard Hinata sniffle and worriedly pulled back, lifting her chin again and asking, “Hey, hey, are you—”

Hinata laughed, and Naruto’s chest—so unbearably heavy earlier—felt light enough that his heart could’ve grown three sizes and still fit comfortably. It was amazing that something as simple as a feeling, however complex as love could be, could free the soul this much. Naruto looked down with teary eyes of his own and watched Hinata laugh at herself as she teared up, rubbing at them as her eyes shone up at him.

“I’m being silly,” she said, still laughing. “But I’m more than okay. I’m great!”

“You’re not being silly,” Naruto said, grinning, “Or maybe you are. But I am too, right?”

Hinata only laughed, shaking her head, and Naruto found himself quietly saying, “Sorry it took me so long.”

It wasn’t enough of an apology, he thought. He was brash and impulsive and she deserved more than this jumble of a confession, but when he looked down into her eyes all he saw there was love, reciprocated. And that was blinding; a light that could overcome any shadow.

Naruto leaned down slowly and caught her lips and the surprised breath that came with them, and closed his eyes when he felt her hands on his jaw. They held each other gently, as though each afraid that the other wasn’t real, or might disappear if they didn’t hold on to them. Naruto kissed her and smiled against her lips when she kissed back, tentatively at first, and then with more confidence as he pulled her closer to the haven of his chest. He wanted her to feel comfortable there, in the same way that he felt comfortable under the palms of her gentle, powerful hands.

He wanted her to be able to come home to him, the way she had so suddenly become home to him.

Put that way, Naruto thought, love _could_ be simple: it was the desire to share the happiest feelings and moments that you experience yourself, with someone else, always.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Hinata said amusedly, “but what brought this on?”

“It was long overdue,” Naruto admitted self-consciously, glancing away until Hinata nudged him back towards her. “But Sakura kind of cornered me? She made literally no sense at all, and I mean _at all_ , but she said your name somewhere in the gist of it all and I just realized that I’ve been an idiot. And then all those people today, that random accident, they almost _died_ —and we’re constantly on missions where we could possibly die and I. I don’t know, Hinata. I wish I could give it to you pretty. But I just suddenly understood that what I feel for you is so much more than what I feel for anyone else.”

Naruto pulled back and rubbed at his nape, a little embarrassed and not knowing if he was making sense. But Hinata smiled and a tear fell down her cheek and Naruto thought maybe she did. Maybe it could be simple like this, for them. Maybe love was complicated, but maybe sometimes it could be simple between two people who share it equally.

“I understand,” she said easily, “I’m happy. That sounds awful, after what happened with that building today, and I am concerned about that. But I can’t deny that I am…m-maybe the happiest I’ve ever been, right now.”

Naruto beamed at her, thrilled that she was feeling the same kind of freeing joy that he was.

“Me too, Hinata, for real.”

Hinata laughed. “For real.”

Amused and feeling spoiled already, Naruto dipped down and kissed her lips once more, surprising her again into a blatant expression of shock. He couldn’t help but to laugh, charmed as she embarrassedly covered her reddened face with her hands. He reached out again and tucked some of her hair behind her ear, exposing more of her face to him. She glanced up at him with wide eyes, smiling and content like a happy cat.

“Ah, Naruto-kun,” she said, with a playful edge to her words. “Before you burst in here, I had been praying, you know.”

Naruto felt his nape grow a few degrees warmer even as he laughed. “Ah, shit— _shoot_. That’s right. But to be fair, Hinata, I had some pretty important things on my mind when I burst in here. The location didn’t really register.”

“Clearly,” Hinata laughed, pulling away from him. Her smile was amiable and mischievous as she turned back to the cushion she’d been kneeling on. She glanced over her shoulder at him and her smile made him tremble.

“Not that I disapprove,” she said lightheartedly, before turning back to face the front of the room. She lifted her hands in front of her chest and pressed her palms together, her voice soft, almost melodic. “But it’s moments like these, so full of joy and wonder, that I think most deserve gratitude.”

Naruto watched her fold herself back to the ground with muted wonder, and he saw her in a brand-new light. Her clothes, tattered and torn with blood stains on them; her hair loose around her shoulders and veiling her expression from onlookers; the way her palms pressed together evenly, held slightly above her bowed head. It was intensely private, and yet she was allowing him to witness her in this space. Earlier he had wondered at her attire in this holiest of places, but now with her words it made more sense to him.

Someone who believed in a higher power and who had returned from a life-threatening mission might prefer to give thanks sincerely and urgently before changing clothes and cleaning up. It was humility in its purest form. Naruto didn’t understand it completely—he’d never thought much about it, but by the time Hinata rose back to her feet there was a new air about her. She seemed wholly relaxed, and content. Her cheeks were rosy and her shoulders relaxed, and when she reached out for his hand he gladly laced their fingers together. He didn’t question it.

Selfless gratitude, like love, was pure and benevolent.

And Naruto, who was learning more about loving and being loved every day, was happy to continue to learn even more.

And now at Hinata’s side.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina Prompt: True love is one soul residing in two bodies.  
> Rating: _Teen and Up Audiences_.

An angel spoke to her once.

It didn’t descend from the sky, clouds parting around an ethereal existence unimaginable and unfathomable to human eyes. It didn’t have wings, or a halo, or a face.

A sword pierced through her and her scream got caught in a breath, a gasp; at that time, before her body had fallen to the dirt, she’d thought for a moment that it was funny. Iron in her side, iron on her lips. She remembered distinctly the way her body bounced on the cold dirt, the solid ground. A moment later and her opponent fell, too. A stream of chakra no greater than a strand of her hair had extended from her fingertip, slicing through air and flesh and chakra and bone. Her chakra flickered and waned as she lay there, and even with her Byakugan fading she could see the way the life left him in a rattle and a shake.

It was then that it happened. She worked on breathing less raggedly and pushed her palms to the earth, forced her weight onto her wrists. She got a single knee under her when she felt the chill on her skin, the baby hairs on her nape rising.

Later, Ino would ask her what she had expected; being the less spiritual of the two, Ino had her doubts and was more a blank canvas. Curious, but not expecting. Hinata had had expectations. Something to _see_ , namely. Anything to hear. A figure or a note, moving through the air, hovering before her. She expected a certain kind of grandeur.

Instead it rose from the earth beneath her feet, a lowly thing, incandescent and glistening. More monster than messenger, she would later remember, when she still had memory of it.

There were no horns, no trumpets, no strings. There was no sound at all, except for this: a breeze like a song over her skin, the notes sinking into her veins, a chorus tucked away behind layers of cardiac muscle. Was it there for her?

She couldn’t see—couldn’t hear. The world narrowed to a pinhole in existence and all Hinata knew was that it was moving. She didn’t know how she knew, but that she was certain. And it was coming closer.

For her, then.

She felt something softer than feathers, lighter than air, right there under her chin. She looked up and warmth flowed through her.

 _Be not afraid_ , it said, and Hinata wanted to laugh. She hurt too badly to do so, and time was moving differently in this creature’s company. She felt lifted, floating while still on the ground. She reached out and curled her fingers in the dirt to ground herself; a reminder that this was _real_.

 _Who are you,_ she thought.

But there was only this: the breeze, warm as the first day of summer, somehow finding a way inside of her; it circled her spine.

She could hear it again, the muted chorus, unspoken but felt.

(A message, she thought, trying to make sense of the impossible—planted like a seed in the folds of her heart—)

Movement; a shifting of reality; Hinata heard only this:

 _True love is one soul residing in two bodies_.

When her eyes slipped shut she expected the honest black of unconsciousness. Instead there was only the burning light of gold and white, a thousand times more harrowing than shadows for how cognizant of her own fading consciousness she was. Her eyes slipped shut, her periorbital veins constricted, and her world only continued to brighten, to brighten, to brighten.

Later, she would lose it all. The warmth. The blinding light. A chorus absent of voices, composing a new melody. Each more astonishing and indescribable than the last, and each forgotten.

But—miraculously—she remembered the words.

And it was the words she kept.  


✧

  
He spoke to an angel, once.

He couldn’t tell you how he knew it was an angel, or why it was so important for him to say the words. His heart had been a rattle in the cage of his chest, clattering hopelessly, trying desperately to keep him alive. The back of his shirt had been soaked with blood, iron grit between his teeth.

It came to him from the trees.

Naruto remembered the stellar image it cast against the waning sky; that stark evergreen whispering through the breeze, trembling against a lavender sky. He remembered forcing his hand into the air, trying to capture it, to reach out and touch it. He had always been a physical person—learned his lessons best when they were beat into him first, even at the hands of friends.

He knew love through his fingertips, the palms of his hands. Him, reaching. Always. There were stories of love and rejection in those ravines between swathes of his skin, so many whispered uncertainties—theirs and his own and his own and his own.

So it wasn’t unusual for him to be the one reaching out, even to an empty sky. In this he had no uncertainties; he merely reached, extending his arm with his heart on his sleeve as he always had. It was the only way he knew how to love. Honestly, and without holding back.

When he was little, he had learned to expect rejection. Then, as he grew, he taught himself and learned from friends, from family, that he was worth more than expecting rejection. So he taught himself to reach with hope, instead. His arm was straight and strong and unwavering, he closed his fingers into a fist, once, around the overhead image of the branches and their beautiful leaves. He opened his hand again and let the lines of his palms whisper their secrets to the skies, and it was then that he felt the warmth against his skin.

He didn’t question it, wasn’t suspicious or wary. He let the heat play between his fingers, like a gold coin travelling over and under his knuckles. He felt the way it wound around his wrist, his forearm, the trembling muscle of his bicep. The heat sunk into his skin, a subtle burn down his spine.

And then the lavender sky fractured above him, and a faint light trickled towards him.

He blinked as he felt it reach his palm, settle into the grooves of his skin. It trembled there, so unbelievably fragile even as the light of it showed straight through his skin. He felt the power of it in his hand, contrasted with the way it rested there—and for one unthinkable moment Naruto wondered if all it wanted was to be held.

The thought washed away and the heat in his hand grew until he bent his arm, rested his elbow in the dirt at his side. Looking directly at it burned his eyes, the same kind of feeling as looking into the sun, but with a thousand times the brightness and a total absence of pain. Naruto wondered if there would be any color left to his eyes, after this, and pictured instead the curious beauty of colorless irises. Familiar to him, since—

The light flickered, a single charge, and Naruto watched it sink into the skin of his wrist. This, he felt. Of all the fire jutsu he had not been able to escape in his lifetime, this was worse, this was a million times _worse._ But he didn’t scream; there was no air left in the world for him to scream with. The light moved inside of him until he was totally, completely breathless. He watched it like a trail of pale liquid lavender move through the veins in his arm until it disappeared over his chest. He felt the warmth around his heart.

The tears he felt on his cheeks were almost more surprising. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d let himself cry. He did so, now, not because it hurt—and it did—but because there was a calm to the way it was circling his heart that he had never felt before. The pain faded from a burning to an aching and Naruto felt carved out, hollow. He felt Kurama in his mind and saw bars and shadows, as if the beast had cornered himself. As if he feared the light.

Naruto wondered about monsters and madness and felt starkly the way that the light—no larger than a dandelion seed—was unraveling him.

But this, he thought, was a pain he could tolerate. It was familiar to him. A childhood friend. Emptiness.

Suddenly the light flared and Naruto caught his breath, found himself gasping. The light gave one final burst, a flare of warmth around his heart, and then he felt it get caught in his throat. Naruto coughed and coughed until the light burst through, and when he gazed upon it once more, this incredible, unthinkable anomaly, he could think only of a sudden kind of music it had left behind.

He could only feel it, smoothing through him, somehow incomplete. Just beginning.

“Wait,” he said, brave as the light which began to rise. He could see it clearer now, his eyes seeing more and more the longer he looked up at it. The light was only a piece, he realized, a fragment a shattered jagged edge of something magnificent something _magical_ and unbelievable and his mind began to throw images of great and mighty beasts he’d learned about in history class at him one after another until—

Sudden, all-consuming silence. This time, of Naruto’s own making. He put a name to the being in front of him and knew it _angel_. It was there in his heart where the leftover warmth still radiated freely. It was there in the multifaceted intergalactic mass of its creation, looming over him with utter gentleness. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, and he struggled to prioritize them in time. How much time did he have left, he wondered. Was there enough?

This was the kind of fear that rose unbidden when you realized that time didn’t bend for anyone; that you only had so much control over the life you were given. Naruto didn’t want to waste time voicing it. Instead, he looked straight into the heart of an angel and he said, “I don’t get it. I don’t know why you chose me, but I hope I can make something of it, you know? I hope I don’t let you down. And…thank you, I think. For, well. For reaching back.”

The docile light continued to rise, high up into the sky, losing color and luminosity the closer it got to the trees. Naruto hoped for a response, anything at all, even after the lavender sky swallowed the light whole and seemed to glow at the edges. He waited and waited, his blood cooling beneath him, and at last he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. He needed to get home, he needed medical attention, but he was exhausted. He was so, so exhausted.

As unconsciousness claimed him, he began to dream of lavender skies, of eyes drained of color, of hearts freed of uncertainty and fear.

Of a single flickering light in the darkness telling him this, and only this: _Be not afraid_.

  
✧

  
Hinata recovered from her wounds with the aid of expert medical care and her own dogged resilience. She went through rehabilitation with Kiba and Shino at her side during the days, and Hanabi at nights. Kurenai-sensei was a constant figure at her hospital bedside. She was healthy and strong and she took excellent care of herself, so she healed quickly. Within a week she was back to her normal training regimen, though Hokage-sama had given her a single crinkle-eyed smile and told her she wouldn’t be getting a mission for at least another week. That was fine with her; beyond the fact that she had been in mortal danger, there was something otherwise… _bizarre_ , about the experience. She couldn’t remember much—she knew what concussions could do to a person—but for some reason she couldn’t get that simple phrase out of her head.

_True love is one soul residing in two bodies._

What did it mean that she’d come away from a life-threatening mission with that particular phrase cemented into her memory? It was an anomaly; detached from all other identifying factors from the event, it floated above her, untethered. Where had it come from? She had not been thinking of love when that sound-nin had stuck her through with a sword the length of her arm.

“Lost in your thoughts again?” Ino asked amusedly, lightly bumping their hips together. “Tonight’ll fix that for sure.”

Hinata sighed. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I’ve only just recovered.”

Ino rolled her eyes. “You’ve been fully recovered for days and we both know it. And besides, going out tonight is not going to _undo_ your recovery. Well, depending on how much you drink, I guess.”

“I won’t be,” she answered easily, grinning up at the face Ino made in response. “So that kind of settles that.”

“You’ll be the safest one around, then. You and Chouji, both.”

“He’s good company.”

“True,” Ino agreed, before something dangerous sharpened her smile. “But I know whose company you’d like even _more_.”

It was Hinata’s turn to roll her eyes. “You and everyone else in our generation,” she muttered, kicking idly at a rock as they headed further west.

“Just our generation? Hinata, please.”

Pink-cheeked as they turned the last corner before their destination, Hinata glanced up and spotted Chouji first, chatting with Tenten away to the side of the front entrance. On second glance, Hinata noticed Shikamaru just beyond them, leaning against the front wall, gazing skyward. The closer she and Ino got, the more of their generation she recognized. There were people from previous generations there, too; many of whom she had gotten to know after becoming a Jounin. She’d been on missions with many of them, and recognized more than she expected the closer she and Ino got.

There were those from newer generations, too. Many of which, Hinata thought wryly, looked too young to gain entrance to such an establishment.

As they got closer, Hinata felt herself edging towards Chouji, a comforting and conversant presence.

“Hinata-san,” he called, glancing up from a customary bag of chips. “You two made good time.”

“Chouji-san,” she greeted in return, smiling comfortably. Ino reached out and brushed a few crumbs from Chouji’s cheek, amusingly maternal, before going in for a quick hug.

“Glad you made it,” she said amiably, her eyes crinkling up in a way that Hinata had long since attributed solely to Ino’s boys. Ino wasn’t soft on many people, but her boys had a special place in her heart that seemed to melt her sharpest edges with just a glance. She moved past Chouji and cast a wry grin over her shoulder before turning back to punch Shikamaru lightly in the shoulder.

Hinata turned to Chouji and asked after him as usual; he was calm and receptive to her, his eyes shining when he laughed. He was such a kind person; Hinata felt totally at ease in his presence.

Some ways into their conversation, however, Hinata realized that she was distracted. It was abrupt, and jarring, the way she felt suddenly drawn towards the fading skyline. She glanced over Chouji’s shoulder and shivered, watching the way the sky bled down from the molten core of a multitude of golds, to the brightest, most eye-catching shades of crimson. She was drawn to the golds, the deep ambers and the fading traces of light. Her shivering abated and she felt a surge of warmth, just beneath her skin, sinking through her.

She wondered at it, as anyone would. What an inexplicable feeling, she thought, as Chouji explained how to properly season a roast. Her eyes flicked over his shoulder again, watching the brightest star sink behind the mountains. The golds remained even as the red grew, and when Hinata’s eyes came back down to earth they caught on ocean blue.

Naruto blinked, and Hinata realized she’d begun to stare; lost entirely in his wide eyes. Before she could glance away embarrassedly, he lifted a hand in greeting and she could do nothing more but to lift her own hand in response. She shrugged shyly, abashed, and watched the way he responded with a genuine smile. He peeled away from Sakura, Sai, and Rock Lee and began to head towards them, and Hinata felt her heart respond instantly.

“Hey,” he greeted easily, eyes trailing over her. He gazed at her with an air that was almost cautious, the trail of his eyes careful and intent, as though seeking out rather than simply exploring. Hinata flushed under his study and felt herself smiling, lips pursed but unable to hold back.

“Naruto-kun,” she offered, instantly embarrassed with how breathless she sounded. She cast a quick glance up at Chouji and felt her cheeks gain heat at his knowing, amused expression as he looked back and forth between them. Hinata didn’t know when he’d stopped talking about his culinary artistry, or if she had been so distracted as to be _rude_. She surely hoped not, and from the amusement spread over his expression, she doubted he took much offense, if any at all.

Chouji turned to Naruto with a smirk of his own. “Good to see you.”

Hinata watched as Naruto clapped a hand on Chouji’s shoulder affably, grinning crookedly. “You too, man. Glad you could make it out.”

“I’m happy so many of us were able to make it,” Chouji agreed, letting his eyes trail around them before settling back quite purposely on Hinata. She wondered idly if there was anyone left in the entire village who didn’t know about her feelings for Naruto.

“I’m pleasantly surprised Sai-san decided to come.”

“You might be the only one,” Naruto huffed, turning over his shoulder as the three of them watched Sai reach out and pull lightly on Sakura’s hair. Sakura turned to him with a stilted slowness, danger signs glaring, but he only smiled wider and let his shoulders bob up and down before offering an explanation—the picture of innocence.

“He’s a weird dude,” a new voice added, and Hinata recognized their new party without having to look. She reached out and felt a hand slide into hers for a moment, offering a cursory squeeze, and turned just in time to see Chouji and Shino silently bump knuckles as Kiba’s hand fell away from hers and he settled at her side with a yawn. “I don’t get him.”

“Maybe we should spend more time with him,” Hinata wondered aloud, eyeing the man in question. “Get to know him better.”

“Like go out with him?” Kiba asked, eyebrows jumping. “Or train?”

Hinata felt herself smiling. “Either, I suppose. But I had training in mind.”

“Let me just say right now,” Naruto began, lifting a finger. “He’s a strange fucking bird. But he’s a good guy. He’s an _asshole_ ,” he added, much to their amusement, “But he’s a good guy.”

“Do with that what we will, huh?” Chouji laughed, and Hinata felt the warmth of joy rising under her skin. She was naturally introverted, but she enjoyed social situations when she was with people she knew and felt comfortable with. She could be perfectly social without them, of course—she’d grown up in a clan that prized propriety after all—but she preferred and responded better, as so many would, to the company of friends.

Hinata’s eyes fell heavy with admiration as she allowed herself to relish the reality of having so many friends. She felt intensely and privately _lucky_ to be able to have so many people in her life that she could rely on; people that could rely on _her_. Though they were spaced out in several slivered groups, she knew that should they come together as a whole that they would not want for comfort, amusement, or joy.

Her unit fell into idle conversation just as the others had, and Hinata listened with half an ear as the warmth around her heart rekindled, drawing her attention. She kept finding her gaze on Naruto, which was neither surprising nor unsettling, though it _was_ embarrassing. She _did_ have some self-control. She was not unused to this behavior of hers. She couldn’t remember the first time she’d realized she was drawn to Naruto in a way that a moth was drawn to a flame—that total, all-encompassing pull; a path that was as beautiful as it was dangerous. He was strong of heart and body and soul and she’d seen all of that even before she’d developed her Byakugan. She’d looked at him and seen the heart of him, and ever since then she’d been his. So easy, she thought. And lasting.

But this time felt different, somehow. She wasn’t just looking to look, or drawn to him idly because she thought him the most interesting and beautiful person near her, though that was true. It was more than an idle attention; it was an affixed curiosity. A curiousness that she didn’t have an answer for, that reminded her of the golden flare of his hair and the way his smile shined so brightly it seemed to cast everyone around him in lesser light.

Why did that kind of luminosity feel nostalgic? What gap in her memory held such a marvel, but was still hidden to her present mind?

She could hear Shino’s low timbre, his textbook explanation of some kind of plant that could be used to spice a meal (and Chouji’s avid and verbal interest) as she glanced up once more to study Naruto’s profile. The sun had set behind him, the sky dulling down from vibrancy to romantic hues. Outlined in waning vermilion, Hinata fell in love with Naruto all over again; his idle grin; the way his eyes—bright and shining, ensnaring of every source of light outside of his own—danced from person to person; the bob of his throat when he laughed; the pink lines his nails left behind when he absentmindedly scratched his nape.

Hinata missed none of it. She looked too closely and felt all the chaos of being burned without any of the actual pain; only the heat, the flickering of light, and the absence of control. She took a careful deep breath, veiling it behind a smile at something Kiba added to Shino’s retelling of the garden tools that were so old he thought them cursed and imagined they’d fought back.

Hinata breathed around the warmth in her chest and waited several purposeful moments before glancing back to Naruto, as she had been since he’d joined their circle. Only this time, instead of catching on the sharp planes of his profile, she met his oceanic stare head-on.

She was so startled by his sudden attention she almost responded verbally, her silent gasp only _just_ falling short of an audible _“Oh!”_ She swallowed and blinked up at him, and it took her a moment to realize he’d asked her a question. She turned towards the elbow Kiba gently introduced to her side and the amused tilt of Shino’s sunglasses, and only just missed the curious, inquisitive trail of Naruto’s eyes over her skin.

“I’m sorry—What?”

“He _said_ ,” Kiba reiterated, “That it’s time for us to head in. Our tables are ready and the gang’s all here, apparently.”

Hinata tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear to give her something to do with her hands and nodded, embarrassed and unable to meet Naruto’s eyes again. “Sorry,” she offered quietly, laughing a little. She glanced up quickly, needing to see his response for only a moment before looking away. His amusement was muted and clear, as though charmed but not wanting to embarrass her further.

“It’s okay,” Naruto said, and she felt the heat of his hand suddenly pressed between her shoulder blades. He didn’t push, only guided; they walked side-by-side and followed the rest of their friends up to the second story and into the bar. Sakura held the door open for everyone and they filed into the boisterous chatter and smoke of their frequented tavern. They liked it because it was _huge_ —two stories and large enough to easily house the lot of them and countless other patrons, too, without the irritation of crowding one another. Still, the tables were close together and there was no doing away with rubbing elbows with strangers, but it was the best lot out of several they’d tried in their earlier years.

Everything inside was deep, polished wood and the overwhelming smell of smoke and alcohol. Glasses clanked and people laughed, and on the far eastern side of the greatest room was a crowded dancefloor. Hinata caught a glimpse of startlingly fashioned gray hair sitting at the bar and frowned. Either her eyes were deceiving her or their Hokage was disguised and enjoying himself a whiskey. Neat.

Somewhere along the journey from front entrance to their table in the back room, Hinata found herself separated from her team and Naruto both. She ended up between Sakura and Chouji, with Ino and Kiba across from her. Naruto was seated just beside Ino, with Neji on his other side. Neji offered Hinata a fond grin that she mirrored exactly before turning back to what looked to be an involved conversation with Tenten. They ordered their first round of drinks—Hinata with her iced tea and Chouji with his water and lemons—before smoothly breaking off into separate conversations once more.

It never ceased to amaze Hinata how easily it came to her generation to check in on each other. There were bonds here that were unbreakable, enduring. There was a fair share of introverts and extroverts, both, and yet somehow they all managed to find a peaceful inquisitiveness that kept everyone up to date with everyone else’s latest business. Hinata was a private person by nature and upbringing, but wasn’t opposed to joining in on the sharing. Kiba already knew what was happening in her life, considering he’d been there with her every step of her recovery. Shino, too, but he was at the far end of the table sandwiched between Sasuke and Sai, which nearly had Hinata laughing out loud. She could only wonder what kind of conversations were going to be had over there, if any at all.

Hinata turned back to her section, still smiling from the thought, and caught on to the tail end of something her tablemates were discussing.

“It’s been rough for a while, right? It’s not just me thinking this. Right? Someone validate me.”

Hinata felt herself smiling, charmed with Kiba’s mannerisms. She heard Ino laugh and when she glanced over to gauge Naruto’s expression, she found his eyebrows raised, his lips pursed. He nodded his head, an easy affirmation.

“For once, I agree with you.” Ino said smoothly, tossing her long tail of hair back over her shoulder. She leaned back as the server brought their drinks, then made quick work of tasting her own to measure it against her palate. With a curiously quirked eyebrow, she seemed to accept it. Hinata watched her trail her fingertip around the rim of the glass almost contemplatively as another waiter set her iced tea down in front of her. She glanced up with a gracious smile and a quiet _thank you,_ before turning back to Ino’s chatter.

“I had a mission last week that was _so_ not worth the pay,” Ino continued, and Sakura huffed in agreement.

Chouji frowned. “What was the cost?”

Ino sniffed. “Nearly an arm and a leg.”

Chouji straightened, protective even so long after the fact, but Ino waved her hand to shush him. Sakura was gazing at her girlfriend with stern pride, a steady kind of unwavering admiration.

Ino added, “Obviously, they sent amateurs to collect. I still have all my amenities.”

“But it was close,” Hinata said quietly, sympathetic.

“Too close.” Sakura added starkly. Ino reached across the table for a moment and squeezed one of Sakura’s hands, a shared look offered between them. When she straightened back up and their hands slid away, Hinata glanced away from the heat in Sakura’s cheeks. Ino’s smile, intimate one moment and wry the next, led her into further explanation.

Hinata listened to Ino recount her mission from hell, in vivid detail, even as she canvassed the room. It was ingrained in her, as a shinobi of Konoha, as a Jounin with responsibilities. She could not, _would not_ be careless. Her father had told her at a very young age that she would have to be stronger, faster, smarter than others. That the blood in her veins made her special, and dangerous, and different. That it made her _hunted_.

She had a lifetime of sunrise training sessions, endless simulations, and a few scars to remind her that though it was peacetime and her village was one of, if not _the_ strongest village in the shinobi system, that she was still not safe. That she would never be safe. Not in this line of work. Not with this blood coursing through her veins. Not with these eyes.

So she canvassed the room, took note of every possible exit and entrance, of blind spots and safe spaces for civilians to be guided should they need it. She took in the high beams in the ceiling, the fragility of the tinted windows up front, the flammability of the curtains. Solid wood under her feet. Maybe fifty more patrons beneath them, on the first floor, taking to their meals on a weekday. She could’ve activated her Byakugan to get an exact count of both stories, but Hinata wasn’t about to cause a fuss just because she’d been raised to be overly prepared, even in the most unassuming of situations.

So she looked without the aid of her bloodline, and still she saw so much more than anyone else around her. She looked at the people, gauged their expressions, looked deeper for intentions. There was the boisterous group to the back left, just having a good time, beers sloshing and laughs bellowing. All around there were business peoples, studiously drinking and engaging in conversation. To the far right two women pressed close together, not obscenely so but enough to catch a few glances.

Hinata saw them all and took note of them. Hers wasn’t the only safety she was concerned with in this place. She was surrounded by people she would risk her life to save.

Her eyes flickered back to Naruto, as though called to him. She found his profile, strong and beautiful and engaging. His eyes were dim, studying Ino’s expression as she spoke. Kiba was shaking his head and Sakura was joining into Ino’s telling every so often. Hinata found herself entirely distracted with the angle of Naruto’s jaw, and the heat that image called up within her. She watched him as he watched others, noticed the way he seemed distracted himself, something heavy pressing on his mind. He licked his lips, once, a slow and idle gesture. She watched his brow furrow, consternation spreading subtly over his expression. His lips moved, and it took Hinata longer than it should have to realize he was speaking, joining his own story with Ino’s because Kiba was right, he said, that their missions had been uncharacteristically rough lately.

“I was…somewhere I can’t talk about but I got my ass handed to me. This massive group of Sound nin, showed up and just came at me _immediately_ , no hesitation—”

“Weird, because you’re so hard to identify.”

Naruto turned to Sakura and pointed as if to shush her, obviously withholding a laugh.  

“ _So anyways_ , there I was just minding my own damn business—”

“In enemy territory,” Ino sang.

“Close enough, clearly, to stir the patrolling guard.” Kiba added playfully, cleaning his sharp nails out in the open without any sense of shame.

Naruto ignored them both, as Hinata and Sakura both muffled their laughter behind their hands.

“Whatever. So I’m cloning myself like _crazy_ because there’s so freakin’ many of them, right? There’s gotta be a hundred of me and we’re all like, ‘Rasengan!’ ‘Rasen-Shuriken!’ ‘Kyah!’ And just like totally dominating at first, you should’ve seen it.”

Hinata felt laughter bubbling up into her throat again, amused and so totally charmed with Naruto’s mannerisms, his way of speaking. They were all in their twenties by now, but he still retained such a pure and untainted kind of childlike innocence when it came to conversation. He didn’t seem to care that they were laughing along with his story, and at his own passionate enthusiasm. Hinata felt her heart pounding as she watched with heavy eyes the way he used his hands to help tell the story.

“So I get down to like three of these dudes, really ugly ones, and it’s like they’d been playing the whole time. Like they were toying with me, or something.” Naruto’s enthusiasm muted in shaded hues, until everyone’s amusement died down and the realization that Naruto had been in grave danger became apparent. “They really kicked my ass. I mean, I held my own for sure, believe it! But when I got down to the last guy I wasn’t doing so hot. Which is crazy, right? That I’d just so happen to come across some guy that’s buff enough to exhaust _me_?”

It wasn’t arrogance that Naruto spoke with, and everyone at the table knew it. It was experience, and knowledge of his own limits—or lack thereof. Naruto’s harrowing amount of chakra was a well-known fact among them, so hearing him tell them himself that he’d been exhausted was more than worrying. Hinata sat up straighter, attention held. Beside her, Sakura’s hand fisted in the material of her skirt.

“Okay, then what happened?” Kiba asked, leaning forward in his seat. Naruto’s met his eyes evenly, his smile wry.

“He wiped the floor with me. You all know about my arm—can’t really hide these bandages. Thanks again, Sakura-chan.”

“It was a mean break,” Sakura said. “I don’t want to see it happen again, Naruto.”

Naruto quirked his lips, innocent but duly chastised.

“There was some internal stuff, too. Don’t really wanna talk about it. Just—by the end of it, I don’t know how I got him, but I did. We were both lying there and—and he took his last breath first. I kinda for real thought I would take mine, too.”

“It was that bad?” Ino asked, and for the first time Hinata heard real concern in her voice. She watched her eyes flick to Sakura, almost unconsciously, then back to Naruto. “Geez, Naruto.”

Naruto scratched at the back of his head, eyes crinkling. “Yeah, it was rough times.”

“ _Slightly_ ,” Kiba groused, sighing. “I didn’t know you’d almost _died_.”

“You’re healing well now?” Hinata found her voice, at last, and held Naruto’s eyes when he looked over to her. His smile was lopsided, adorably perched, and his eyes grew heavy the longer he gazed at her.

“Yeah,” he said, voice somehow gentled, “Yeah I’m healing now. No worries.”

Hinata smiled, relief flooding through her. “Ah, that’s good.”

“So,” Kiba cleared his throat, his voice purposely poised to lighten the mood. He somehow managed to portray both an amused kind of curiosity that still managed to seem carelessly blasé. “Did you see a light at the end of the tunnel, and all that?”

Hinata noticed that it took Naruto a moment longer than ordinary to look away from her, and found herself looking away first. She glanced to Kiba and made a face when he smirked knowingly, lifting a hand to cover his visible incisors. He was laughing at her. Typical.

Naruto’s eyes left her and Hinata felt like she could breathe again—and when had she begun to feel breathless? She held off on bringing a hand up to her chest, though the image was there in her mind. A habit.

“No light,” he explained, and Hinata couldn’t help but to turn back to him just to gauge his expression. It was clear he was remembering the fight, the terrifying moment, but Hinata was surprised to find that he didn’t look fearful in the slightest. If anything, he looked _confused_. His brow pursed, his lips frowning; Hinata watched the way he worked on the words.

“Not at first. Not how you’d think.”

“What?” That was Sakura, speaking at last to something she apparently didn’t already know. This, then, was news to her; just as it was for the rest of them sitting around him. The constant haze of tavern noise rose and fell around them as Hinata found herself leaning forward slightly in her seat, curious and captivated. Naruto looked a man frustrated and confused, his apparent lack of answers gnawing at him. He drew his fingers across his mouth once, an idle gesture, needing the movement.

“So you _did_ see a light?” Ino, that time.

“Well, yeah. But there wasn’t a tunnel. It’s weird, but it’s kind of hard to remember? There was the sky, this great shade of purple.”

“Purple?” Ino asked, voice full of disbelief. Naruto pursed his lips, trying to conjure something into words.

“Light purple, like—like those flowers! By the hot springs, just east of the Tower. What are those things called—”

“I’m assuming you mean _lavender_. The ones hanging in arches overhead?”

“Yes!”

Sakura laughed. “Naruto, that’s the flower _and_ the color you’re looking for. Probably.”

Naruto pointed at her, grinning. “Right! Lavender. Totally knew that. That’s the color the sky was, believe it! And I just remember lying there thinking it was all over, and that sucked, truly, because I had—have so much left I want to do.”

Hinata felt her heart beat like a punch in her chest, a heavy thud. They’d all assumed Naruto’s mission had been bad; his injuries had been awful and debilitating and what proved it all worse, even Naruto’s unshakeable resolve had been temporarily rocked. His first few days of recovery had been…difficult. But even then, helping to rehabilitate him, they hadn’t known it had been _this_ : something so close to death he’d already had a taste of the shadows after the initial light. He spoke of it almost intimately. He rubbed idly at his nape once more, a nervous gesture Hinata had picked up on years back.

“It’s kinda fuzzy still, real hard to remember for some reason. But there was this little ball of light that came down from the sky, and I reached out for it and—it landed in my hand.” Naruto was in full swing now, enthusiastically recounting his experience with wide eyes still slightly downcast, and his hands moving with his words. Hinata glanced around their table to see the amused faces of their friends, and realized they didn’t believe him. They were looking at him with charmed amusement, as though he was deliberately or accidentally hilarious, and they didn’t care which it was. Only that they didn’t believe him. And Hinata understood; it was a fantastical story.

But there was something about his eyes, and the way he seemed so vividly stuck in that past moment; something about the way he spoke with a sense of—wonder.

She believed him.

And there was something _more_ , too. Hinata felt a curious pull towards his words and the recollection of a kind of ethereal light. The more he spoke of it, the more breathless Hinata began to feel. His explanation, the details he offered of heat and random, inexplicable lyricism pounding along with his pulse had her beginning to unravel. He talked about a warmth he had never before experienced, one that radiated from within but originated outside of him, and Hinata felt the curious sensation of her body slowly seeping into adrenaline-laced waters, her heart beginning to race. The more he spoke, the more he explained of his near-death experience, the more alarmed Hinata grew.

She remembered this. She couldn’t explain it—could barely wrap her mind around the possibility, and what it could mean, but she _remembered this_.

Everything he was explaining, she had once felt, too.

“You’re laughing,” Naruto said suddenly, his grin muted, wry. Hinata blinked, startled back into sudden presence, and saw that their friends were in fact laughing at him. Not outright, in a gregarious manner. But the smiles on their faces and the amused glints in their eyes were enough of a tell. Naruto didn’t seem entirely bothered by this, though. Hinata studied his expression with sharp eyes, now far more prying than before. She watched the way he shrugged, almost self-consciously, as one corner of his lips curled. There wasn’t an ounce of doubt in his voice when he spoke, even after their obvious disillusionment with his retelling. He said, “But I could hear them. The music and the voices, somehow. They came from the light, and the light moved through me. Man, you can laugh, I don’t care. I know what I saw. What I felt.”

The expression on his face matched exactly the sudden understanding coursing through Hinata’s body. She could hear his unspoken words. _What I can still feel. What I can still hear._

She remembered, so very suddenly, the words. The way that she had come home from a near-death experience herself and felt that same warmth, that same mystical musical revelation in her veins. The words, as clear as they were indecipherable in origin, spoken unto her:

_True love is one soul residing in two bodies._

“Naruto, you were concussed,” Sakura said, not without kindness. “I’m sure you believe you saw those things, but they were products of traumatic brain injury.”

“It happens to all of us,” Chouji attempted to soothe, as Ino’s own humor gave way to support.

“We all see different shit, sure, but we see it.” She shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

Hinata watched carefully the way Naruto’s expression tensed, and how he wrestled with his words, trying to find the proper way to iterate his feelings.

“No,” he said, after a moment of pause, “No that’s not it. I know it was real. It wasn’t—yeah I took a few blows to the head, concussed or whatever, but I know the difference between what’s real and what’s not.”

Sakura’s voice was gentler, this time. Soothing. “We get it, Naruto. We’re not saying you’re lying, or faking it.”

“Yeah man,” Kiba added, reaching out to clap a hand on his shoulder as someone stumbled behind him, nearly spilling their drink on him. Kiba didn’t even flinch at the droplets on his own shoulder. “It’s cool. We get it.”

Naruto glanced up and met Hinata’s eyes, the last voice yet to be offered on the subject. He studied her in the same way she studied him, though his was with a calm and steady gaze whereas she felt nearly tangibly undone. She couldn’t find a response, couldn’t taste the words. They just wouldn’t come, no matter how hard she drew on them. She swallowed and never once looked away from him, and saw that his frustration, while potent, was brief. He glanced away and his expression shifted, and though he didn’t shrug his heavy shoulders again, the feeling of the gesture was there. Hinata could see the conviction in his eyes, the complete and total lack of doubt in his words. He didn’t need them to believe him. He’d only just been sharing with them the experience he’d had.

It seemed that after that everyone was ready for new topics and new ventures. Some were on their third drinks, while others had moved off to the dancefloor. Hinata was surprised to see Neji out there, swaying in place, while Tenten laughed and laughed and taught him how to move his body in anything other than harsh angles. She smoothed out his shoulders with a delicate flick of her wrist, a soothing swipe of fingertips, and Hinata, distracted as she was, felt herself smiling at the expression that rose upon Neji’s face. He was blushing.

When Hinata turned back to her table she was surprised to find it nearly empty of its previous patrons. She distinctly remembered Chouji mumbling something about going downstairs to get more food, with Shikamaru shadowing him along the way. Rock Lee was on the dance floor doing what Hinata could only describe as the “pool noodle,” and Kiba had rescued Shino from his company and was dragging him over to the bar. Sasuke and Sai had moved somewhere into the shadows, presumably, and Ino had come around the table to stand by her girlfriend, one hand reaching out to run through Hinata’s hair.

“Well,” Ino sighed. “That was something.”

Sakura turned in her seat and pushed her face against Ino’s side, nuzzling and comforted.

“I worry about him,” Hinata could just barely make the words out, muffled as they were against Ino’s side. Ino ran her fingers through Sakura’s hair and only nodded, offering a quiet, “I know.”

Hinata turned her gaze back to the man in question and found several people around him, only a few of which she actually recognized. From an outsider’s perspective, everything was once again right with the universe. The planets orbited the sun, and every light in the room paled in comparison to his radiance.

They were clearly fans of his, eager and joyful to share his space and attention. Hinata felt herself smiling crookedly, admiration spilling heat in her cheeks. But then her expression shifted as sudden intrusive thoughts began to arise. There were so many people looking for his attention, and more, his interest. She watched for a moment the way a young woman moved closer, reaching out to touch his shoulder. She smiled, batted her eyelashes, and laughed at something Naruto offered haphazardly to the conversation. Hinata wondered, not for the first time, what it was like to be so confident. She’d been wondering such a thing nearly all her life, though most especially when she went out with Ino and Sakura, who were each their own separate force of nature.

But there was no use to those lines of thought. She was growing at her own pace, far more confident than she had ever been before, and that was okay. Hinata was unique, too, and though she was reticent and self-conscious and so often embarrassed, she was honest and sincere and strong, too. Still, it was difficult to silence a voice as loud as self-doubt. The people around Naruto were beautiful, too, and they were probably strong, and wonderful and everything Naruto would want. Many of them were younger than her, too, new generations that knew of Uzumaki Naruto, the hero of Konoha, the legend of the leaf. They hadn’t grown up beside him, seeing his faults, his flaws, his setbacks. They hadn’t helped him fight to secure his bonds. They hadn’t been there with him through the Chuunin exams; Akatsuki; Pain. The Jounin trials.

And though her presence beside him in those moments certainly did not mean _nothing_ , neither were they singularly great enough to secure her a spot in his heart that none of those other undeniably incredible Konoha shinobi might also share. You could be someone’s best and closest friend, someone’s most loyal supporter and admirer, and still fall short of the kind of love that called on the soul.

That was the root of the importance of free will; it was all about _choice_. And no matter how much Hinata grew or matured or changed with the times, all at Naruto’s side as a dear friend and fellow shinobi, the only deciding factor on who he would love enough to give his whole heart to was of his own choosing.

And there were so many incredible, beautiful candidates.

Hinata turned away with the sour taste of envy on her tongue, and forced herself to shake it off. You don’t feed the monsters you don’t want to grow. She drank some of her iced tea and focused on the cleansing coolness that swam through her, the tinge of lemon, the clinking of the ice cubes. She turned and heard Ino and Sakura’s chatter, far-shifted from any topic relative to Naruto, and still found that her mind was singularly focused on him. On his words, and his experiences, and how they measured up to her own.

The similarities were uncanny, alarmingly so. The intimate yet nearly indescribable way he’d spoke of that warmth was so familiar to her that she could _feel_ it. It had been weeks since her own incident; weeks since she’d been left with only a message; weeks since she’d felt the warmth she’d only later been able to faintly remember. But now, with Naruto so close and his words so incredibly familiar, the feeling was ineffably present.

It wasn’t unusual for Hinata to feel drawn to Naruto, but this feeling was somehow new. This was more than the usual magnetic pull that drew her eyes to him. This was something deeper, at her core, speaking to him.

  
✧

  
Naruto had grown up surrounded by people who doubted him; it was no longer as jarring as it had once been. He knew by now to trust himself. And besides, he thought with a slight smile, his story _did_ sound farfetched. Had he really expected them to believe him?

Someone tapped his shoulder, a gentle one-two, and he turned to see a young woman gazing down at him. Her smile was crooked and her eyes bright, and when he turned completely he saw that she was one of many crowding around him. He blinked, lips parting in surprise, showing teeth.

“Hey,” He greeted uncertainly, resisting the urge to lift his hand and rub at his nape. He leaned his tailbone against the table and tried to meet each of their eyes. He still felt overwhelmed when things like this happened. That out of all the people in this place, they would seek _him_ out. Just because he’d done his job, and helped save lives. Many lives, sure, a village full of them—but his friends and his teachers had all done the same, too. He didn’t understand what made him stand out, when before he’d tried everything in the book and remained overlooked.

It was a…bizarre change.

“Hi!” She said, and Naruto forgot every one of their names after they introduced themselves, even when he tried to repeat them in his head and actively remember them. There were just too many of them, and there was barely any room for him to think. Already the girl who’d tapped him—Hana?—was asking him about his evening and what kind of plans he had later on and Naruto really just couldn’t focus.

He kept coming back to his story and how it still felt so real; even now, in this crowded tavern, safe and surrounded by so many people—the complete opposite of the original scene—he felt the warmth under his skin. It made his heart skip every now and again, the simple reminder of how close he’d come to something so otherworldly.

“Uh,” he said, when a gap of silence hung between them and he realized belatedly he was supposed to offer something here. He laughed at himself. “Sorry, I’m not sure. I’m here with a bunch of good friends.”

“Oh,” she said easily, “That’s cool!”

“Yeah,” he said, for lack of anything else. He glanced around at their group and asked, “Are you all together?”

“No,” a young man said, inching slightly closer.

“No?” Naruto asked, newly baffled. He flicked his eyes around the semi-circle of strangers once more and found himself laughing, out of his league. “Well, how did that happen?”

“We wanted to talk to you,” Ann (?) said eagerly, pressing forward. She and Hana were close enough that he could feel Hana’s sleeve against his elbow, and if Ann had reached out, she would’ve been able to touch his jaw. He didn’t feel claustrophobic or uncomfortable with their closeness—he was a physical person himself, often overstepping into other peoples’ personal space. But he _did_ feel a certain kind of discomfort simply because he didn’t know what these people expected of him. He didn’t know how to act, so he didn’t. He stayed true to form and just did what Naruto would do.

“That’s weird,” he said, though not without kindness. “What did you all wanna talk about?”

“Well,” Ann stuttered, startled at the question. Her eyes flicked to one of the women at her side and then back to Naruto, uncertain. “Well, anything really.”

“Yeah,” Hana added, not one to be outdone. “What’s new with you?”

Naruto thought instantly of the light, the warmth, the blood draining out of his body. For reasons he couldn’t put into words, he looked over his left shoulder at the spot where just minutes prior Hinata had been sitting, quiet and attentive and as graceful as always. He couldn’t help but to gaze at her, often, even when it would’ve been polite to glance around. Their friends had been around them and still he hadn’t cared. His eyes were drawn to her, magnetic and electric, both. She was beautiful and kind, gentle and strong. And she was the only person at the table who had not denied his claim. Maybe, he thought absently, just maybe she believed him.

But she wasn’t sitting there any longer. Her space was empty, her chair tucked in. Her iced tea was empty and when he glanced around a last time he didn’t see her nearby. He turned back and smiled weakly. For some reason, his recent brush with death and the resulting glimpse of something—something _other_ wasn’t a topic he felt comfortable broaching with strangers. It wasn’t that he was afraid they’d doubt him too, or that they’d judge him, think of him differently because of it.

It just felt too…intimate.

“It’s been kinda boring for me lately, ya know? Missions ain’t always fun. And outside of that, well, I guess I’ve been spendin’ a lot of time with Iruka-sensei lately. Especially now that I have time off—uh, yeah. Just, more time lately. He likes to go down to the vendors and bargain with them, though I don’t really get why, because even when he gets the numbers down he buys more than he told me he would and they end up getting more than they originally asked for. He’s weird like that, sometimes.”

A young woman several inches taller than everyone else smiled, adding, “I hear Iruka-sensei is as strict as ever at the Academy.”

Naruto smiled. “I wouldn’t doubt it!”

“Is he still strict with you, Naruto-san?”

Laughing, Naruto asserted, “He’s the _strictest_ with me, believe it!”

“That’s kind of hard to believe,” Hana laughed, bringing her fist up to cover her lips.

“You should hear the lectures he gives me!” Naruto appealed, before going into a brief but detailed reiteration of his most recent trip to the hot springs with Iruka-sensei. Iruka was the only father Naruto had ever known, and he loved him dotingly. Naruto knew that his stern nature, exemplified in Naruto’s presence, was one of the ways that Iruka showed affection. He wanted those he loved to do well, to constantly chase their best selves. It was a strict road to follow, but he offered encouragement and support throughout the entire journey. Naruto was the man he was today because Iruka had been there for him—when no one else was.

When the people around him began to join in, offering their own stories to blend in with his, he found his attention once again pulled aside. It began in his fingertips, a tingling heat that brushed up against his veins. It trailed up his arms and corded around his ribcage. The warmth surrounded his heart and he felt an all-consuming calm, his heartbeat slowing, relaxing. He turned again and his eyes cast over the room, searching. The warmth pulsed; bright, colorless eyes across the room. Was that—

“Is that Uchiha Sasuke?” One of the women interrupted another, and Naruto’s attention returned to her with avid amusement. He could’ve laughed for the familiar tone and the expression on her face, both such common occurrences when they were kids.

When Naruto turned back to them, most were looking somewhere over his shoulder, though several continued to gaze wonderingly at him. He blinked at them, his eyes falling on Hana’s direct gaze. She smiled, and he had no idea what to do with that.

“Speaking of stern,” someone said, not without humor. “That’s definitely him.”

“What, really?”

“I can’t believe he’d come here, of all places.”

“Doesn’t seem the type, right?”

“It’s a fair place to brood, though,” Hana offered at last, though her eyes never shifted. It had been a long time since someone had described Sasuke as _brooding_ , though he had never not been so. As such, nostalgia coiled through Naruto and he did laugh, a little, as he nodded and pointed over his shoulder where Sasuke undoubtedly wilted against the shadowed wallpaper, uncomfortable and out of place. Naruto didn’t even have to look to know he was there, right where he’d targeted. He knew him too well. It was a good reminder, though, that he should probably rescue him soon. At least for a moment, so he wasn’t _so_ uncomfortable.

“Sure is,” Naruto said, a little belatedly. “This type of meet-up isn’t really his thing, ya know?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” someone added, sounding glib. “He looks plenty comfortable to me.”

Naruto blinked, and the woman beside Hana—what was her name? Ann?—snorted.

She said, “I didn’t know he was so close to the Hyuuga princess.”

It was the strangest sensation of breathlessness that came over Naruto in that moment, as he turned over his shoulder to see what they were accurately describing. His eyes searched for a fleeting moment before finding them, tucked close by necessity of space in the shadowed alcove away from the dancefloor and the tables, both. Hinata was there at Sasuke’s shoulder, discussing something Naruto couldn’t even pretend to guess, her hands adding detail to the words. Sasuke leaned towards her, strangely receptive to her body language and whatever it was she was discussing. Naruto felt his heart in his throat.

Before there was suspicion, there was simple joy: that two of his best friends were getting along well with one another. And of all his friends, it was Sasuke, no less! He was the most stubborn person Naruto knew, and though countless fawned over him and chased after him, he was notoriously fastidious about who he allowed to get close to him. Pickier even with who he sought out himself.

Had he gone to Hinata? Or had Hinata gone to him? And why did the answer to those questions hold such weight in Naruto’s heart?

He felt a raw, uncomfortable kind of ache in his throat and swallowed, pushing himself away from the table. He turned back to the people around him and offered them his most winning smile, at last succumbing to his habit of idly scratching at his hair.

“I guess you’re right!” He said lightly, his eyes crinkling. “I’m gonna head over and ask Hinata what her secret is. Sasuke-bastard so rarely socializes at these things!”

“Oh, uh, okay then.” Hana seemed startled by his dawning retreat, and tried for a moment to stall. Ultimately, though, Naruto turned away and she said only, “Well, talk to you soon, Naruto-san.”

She held his eyes, and he thought for a moment that maybe there was something significant to the way she looked at him before he shrugged his shoulders and lifted a hand in passing.

“Sure. Bye then!”

He missed entirely the way her expression fell, and was already turning back to Hinata when one of Hana’s friends reached out to her consolingly. He moved through the crowded room with renewed purpose, offering Sakura a transitory, distracted smirk when she raised her eyebrows at his passing before heading straight towards that alcove. The closer he got the clearer he could see Hinata’s expression, and the way Sasuke blinked down at her in a way that wasn’t totally apathetic. Whatever she was talking about had her animated, her hands coming up to show a certain kind of sign before a burst of quiet laughter that had even Sasuke cracking a smile.

Naruto’s strides broadened and by the time he made it close enough to garner their attention, he heard the last bits of Hinata explaining some trip with Mirai involving chakra control.

“She’s quite wonderful,” she said, as Naruto came to stand beside them. Hinata glanced over and again with more surprise, lifting one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She bowed her head slightly to greet him, and Sasuke merely flicked his eyes over him and away in acknowledgement.

“Hey,” he offered, nodding to Sasuke but turning to Hinata. She smiled at him, a warm greeting.

“Naruto-kun,” she explained, with an open gesture to include Sasuke. “We were just discussing Mirai—Kurenai’s daughter. She’s quite the fireball.”

“I’ve heard, yeah,” he nodded, seamlessly moving into their conversation. He shoved his fisted hands in his pockets and leaned back on his heels, thinking back to what he’d heard from Iruka about his most outstanding students. “Iruka’s mentioned her before.”

Hinata smiled. “I was just telling Uchiha-san that he would like her. She’s quick.”

“She won’t be quick enough.” Sasuke said blandly, and Hinata laughed.

“I don’t just mean physically, Uchiha-san.”

Naruto snorted, shaking his head when Sasuke turned to him with that _look_ he sometimes got.

“Typical competitive bastard,” Naruto laughed, and Sasuke clicked his tongue.

“As if you’re any less competitive, dumbass.”

“Maybe not,” Naruto admitted easily, rocking back onto his heels again, fluid and at ease in their company. He turned to Hinata and winked, playful and drawn to the way her cheeks gained color in response. “But at least I know better than to challenge a _kid_.”

“I wasn’t challenging her—” Sasuke began, before Hinata laughed lowly and quickly added, “Sorry to contradict, Naruto-kun, but wasn’t it you who recently had a run-in with Academy students that resulted in a formal reprimand?”

Sasuke choked on his beverage of choice and Hinata laughed behind her palm as Naruto sputtered, hands coming out to wave in the way.

“Wait, wait,” he pleaded, “That’s so not fair!”

“What did you do? Fight them?” One delicate black eyebrow lifted and the humor in Sasuke’s eyes made Naruto stand taller. Hinata shook her head and before Naruto could explain the situation, she spoke.

“He didn’t fight them,” she explained easily. “He merely taught them to gamble.”

“I made a _wager_ ,” Naruto said exasperatedly. “Big deal!”

“Naruto-kun,” Hinata smiled, “They were ten year olds.”

“Old enough to carry around chump change,” Naruto grumbled, and Hinata’s shocked amusement pulled at his heartstrings, even as she began to laugh at him in outright exasperation. Sasuke continued to shake his head, arms coming up to cross over his chest as his expression seemed to document every facet of this for future recollection and black mail.

“Dumbass,” he said with a smirk. “Did you even win?”

Naruto’s temperature rose into his cheeks and he turned deliberately to Hinata, his eyes pleading as he changed the subject.

“So!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “How about that crazy mission I had recently, right? The one where I almost _died_ , but totally took down the bad guys in the coolest way possible?”

Sasuke sighed, rolling his eyes and peeling himself away from the wall. He turned to Hinata with a nod and said, “I’m not listening to this story _again_. See you.” And without another word he moved out of the shadows and somewhere into the crowded room. Naruto turned to Hinata with a careless shrug, as if to say, _what can you do_?

She offered him a kind smile, turning to face him completely. She leaned back against the wall slightly, and Naruto instinctively dropped his eyes to take in her street clothes. She dressed modestly, not much skin showing, but her shirt clung to her curves and when she leaned slightly off-center he could see a glimpse of skin at her waist. She was beautiful. He’d always known that, seen it. But for the past few months she’d begun to look different to him, somehow. He had trouble understanding it; all he knew was that one moment she was there, the most beautiful girl in the classroom and so out of his league he didn’t even realize there was potential for anything more than friendship between them, and then—

And then she was everywhere. He saw her everywhere and he didn’t shy away from looking. And when she was gone, away on mission or simply somewhere else, he found her in his thoughts. She was everywhere.

And with her, a warmth.

“Naruto-kun,” she said, her quiet voice almost drowned out under the sea of voices around them. He moved closer to hear her better, and had the fleeting thought that if he reached out to her, he’d be able to touch her cheek. But would she reach back? “About your mission,” She began, and Naruto waved his hands again, ushering the topic aside. He rubbed at the nape of his neck just for something else to do with his hands and laughed, just this side of self-deprecating.

“It’s okay, we don’t really have to talk about it again. I only really said it to change the subject, and I knew the bastard would get pissy.”

Hinata’s smile was gentle, and kind. “I understand. But, um, if it’s okay I did actually want to talk to you about it. Alone.”

Naruto felt himself perking up, standing taller and leaning towards her engagingly. He couldn’t imagine what she had to say about his most recent and bizarre mission, but he was curious beyond belief and fully open to listening. He smiled, curling his fingers at her encouragingly.

“Of course. What d’ya wanna talk about?”

“Well,” and here Naruto’s eyes flickered over her expression, and the way blush spread through her cheeks. Naruto felt his heart in his throat and a curious kind of warmth spreading, and spreading, and was nearly on his toes waiting for her to explain her reaction. He watched her fidget for a moment, twisting her fingers and biting her lip, before turning to him with her shoulders drawn back, resolute and unafraid. She lifted her chin slightly and said, “I believe you.”

Naruto’s smile was crooked and lazy, his eyes growing heavy-lidded with warmth. It was such a simple thing, _she believed him_ , but it felt significant and as though he’d needed it. It felt redeeming, somehow, even though he’d thought his was the only conviction he’d needed. Hers felt like a warming balm on his skin, soothing and healing.

“You do,” he grinned, watching her nod.

“I do,” she agreed, and right when he felt himself reveling in her faith in him, she ducked her head and said, “There’s something else, too.”

Naruto tilted his head, curious and encouraging.

Hinata seemed nervous to explain, her gaze still downcast for several moments before she met his eyes again. Her expression seemed to plead with him, as at last she finally said, “It might sound even crazier, I know it, but I had a similar experience on my last mission.”

Naruto’s heart hammered in his chest, thud-thud-thudding away as he tried to make sense of her words. A similar experience? She couldn’t mean the light—the warmth; so did that mean—

“Hinata,” he breathed, moving closer. He reached out at last and rested his hand on her shoulder, studying her expression for fear or anything else that might paint him a clearer picture.

“Did you almost—was it so bad that you—”

“I had lethal wounds, yes.”

Naruto felt knocked over, turned to ash. That somewhere in the world Hinata had laid nearly lifeless on the ground with no one there to comfort her or assist her, broke his heart. _I should’ve been there_ , he thought irrationally. _I could’ve protected her when she actually needed protecting_. But there was no use thinking like that now, with her alive and safe and within reach, here and now. He had his hand on her shoulder, felt the warmth of her in the palm of his hand. She was safe.

But at one point, she had been in such danger her life had been at risk.

“I didn’t know it was that bad—I mean, you were covered in wounds and you had to rehabilitate but you healed so fast. You never said—you could have _died_.”

“It was bad,” Hinata said easily, and then shrugged. “But I got through it.” She grinned and almost amusedly added, “That’s not the similarity I was talking about, though.”

Naruto’s words stopped dead and his mind whirred incessantly, coming up with nothing certain. She’d had a near-death experience, just like he had, but _that_ wasn’t the similarity she was focusing on?

Hinata hesitantly reached up and rested her fingers over his on her shoulder, glancing down as she carefully pulled his hand away. He bent towards her slightly and watched the way she watched him, flicking her eyes up to gauge his expression even as some people jostled them nearby. Her eyes fell once more to his hand, turning it over so that his palm faced the sky. She trailed her fingertips over the lines of his palm and he felt tantalizing chills race down his spine. She curled his fingertips in towards his palm, as if to help him keep his hold on something precious there beneath the cracks. She looked up at him in baffled wonder.

“A light,” she said slowly, as if just now remembering and feeling nothing more than reverence. “A warmth.”

Naruto shot upright immediately, startled and amazed at her admission.

“You said, ‘a similar experience,’” he said.

She nodded. “Yes. A near-death experience, and I hadn’t remembered anything but the words for so long, until just—just now. The presence of a light that shone brighter than anything I’d ever seen. And a warmth that was unlike anything I’ve ever felt. And together, there was this…”

“Music,” Naruto answered.

His heart raced in his chest, in his ears, blood rushing until he could just barely hear that fleeting symphony—the mystery he had yet to solve since the moment of his awakening from that mission. What were the words that sang through his veins? Why did they feel so incredibly important, and how could Hinata have experienced something so incredibly bizarre in just the same way that he had? He found himself marveling over her, seeing her with new eyes, noticing more than just her luminous nature and her gentle, beautiful kindness. He reached out and trailed his fingertips over her cheekbones, watching her gasp, and he remembered lavender skies. He felt the heat of her cheek and knew a similar warmth in the very heart of him. He looked into her beautiful, bizarre, colorless eyes and he remembered the way the light had engulfed him in a heat that didn’t burn but _ached_.

And it was sudden and novel and _incredible_ when he realized, _oh_.

He loved her.

“I know that light,” he said, even as he moved closer to her, staring down at her in furrowed wonder. There was no hesitation in him. He didn’t take the time to wonder over his own feelings or question them. He merely acted on them. He _loved_ her. And suddenly the most important thing in the world to him was this: if she loved him in return.

His voice quieted but he knew that she would hear him: “I know the warmth of that touch.”

With apparent uncertainty, she reached out and hesitated before placing her palm over his heart. She glanced up at him, probably to make sure she wasn’t overstepping any boundaries, and when she met his eyes he made sure that she couldn’t look away. His eyes felt wet, filled with a stunning kind of affection as they trailed over her face, noted every beautiful feature. He couldn’t quite rap his head around the fact that Hyuuga Hinata, renowned as one of the strongest kunoichi in Konoha’s history, heiress of her clan, and the kindest, gentlest, most striking woman he’d ever seen had shared a once-in-a-lifetime near-death experience with him.

What in all creation could that possibly _mean_?

The moment he thought it was the moment he knew the answer. He didn’t need to hear the words in the song of his veins to know it, but he craved them. He looked at Hinata and in the sometimes mystical way that intuition can be dead-on, even before she spoke the words into the space between them, he knew it.

“The music isn’t like normal music, though. I know this sounds bizarre—it is—but it feels like it’s…in my veins. Coursing through me. I know the words and I remember the light and the warmth but I couldn’t feel them until—”

She looked at him and the love he felt in his heart was reflected back at him through her timeless eyes. He loved her. It was so much more than that. It was the most brilliant of lights shone on the two of them, and a warm and kindling fire set beneath them; incentives to show them the obvious they’d somehow missed or overlooked.

Naruto said, “I know the music. But I don’t know the message.”

Hinata’s lips parted to speak the missing words and Naruto thought of homecomings.

“The light,” she said quietly, and Naruto watched the way his warmth reached her. “It spoke to me.”

Naruto reached out and gave her the option to step into the warmth of his chest or remain against the wall, and folded joyously around her when she chose the former. He felt her lips against his collarbone, and heard the words as if in a stupor.

It felt to him like they were floating, completely and totally separate from that plane of existence. Had he looked down beneath their feet, maybe he would’ve seen the Earth, a blanket of charcoal space wrapped around them, with holes bleeding light into existence. They paled, somehow, in comparison to the light that shone from Naruto and Hinata pressed heart to heart in a crowded room.

Her words were a long-awaited revelation against his skin.

“ _True love is one soul residing in two bodies._ ”

Naruto breathed out, and in, and together their hearts beat as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I know absolutely nothing about bars, taverns, izakayas, etc. I just picture a huge room with places to eat, places to drink, places to dance, and I run with it. I definitely should be accurate and write them in izakayas, which are smaller and open (from what I've seen in a brief bout of google research) but I just always fall back on this imaginary tavern-y place I always have in my mind. I apologize for these inconsistencies. 
> 
> Also, Naruto is at Konoha Hero Status™ but The Confession™ did not occur in this fic \o/ 
> 
> This is unedited because I'm exhausted. Please bear with me.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina, Unprompted. Inspired by the quote, “Bring me the sunflower gone mad with light,” by Eugenio Montale. And I also gazed at [this gorgeous fanart](http://szajnie.tumblr.com/post/89577569438/i-am-in-love-with-elfhinata) that [@szajnie](szajnie.tumblr.com/) created while I was writing this! <3  
> Rating: _General Audiences._

She had seen this day nearly a decade ago, fresh dew on the leaves.

Her eyes were—different; special and true. And she had seen.

She had known since she was just a girl. He would come for her; she would call for him. None of this, she thought, was ever going to be easy. 

She’d been young, then, and foolish. Coddled with naiveté that her people only continued to foster. They said that her blood was greater than the likes of which they’d seen in lifetimes, and that they wouldn’t dare to stifle the flow of it. Not even to tell her, only once or at all, that there were moments in life that never vanished, even with effort, even with time. Scars on hearts, and hers the grandest of canyons; edged deep, spread wide, bared to the open sky.

She had been the brightness of laughter and the joy of hope, a young girl finding her place on a world she would never leave. Glimmering like gems, her eyes shone through the mist, too wide for her face. Hers was an unmistakable presence amongst her people. Her elven ancestors had inhabited these mountains for centuries, further back in time than even her great grandmother could recall. And like her grandmother and her mother before her, she would rule these lands.

One day.

When she’d woken from the dream of a sunflower bursting with the light of life, mad with the brightness of sincerity, she’d thought, one day, but not too soon.

And it did take time; two centuries passed; Hinata grew into her body, the sharpness of her family’s passed down ears, the elegance of her bloodline. Her hair grazed her tailbone, long and full and just the exact shade of the sky when the moon centered above her. Adorned in the finest silks edged and hemmed with embroidered beading, she shimmered in the moonlight. Her every step was a bystander’s sharp inhale, her proud chin raised not in arrogance, but whimsy: the moon and the star-speckled night had become a companion of sorts.

She gazed up at them now, barely feeling the way the breeze toyed with her skirts, her sleeves. She heard his approach long before he settled beside her, and when she turned at last to gauge his temperament, she found him stern. This was not unusual, but there was a certain sharpness to his jaw that spoke of genuine concern. It made her smile, acknowledgement settling warmly under the skin of her chest. Her lips quirked, but her humor was hampered with the heavy weight of reality pressing in against her.

“I know, cousin.”

After all, his sight was special, too.

“You’re not running from this,” Neji intoned, soft as the breeze against their skin. It was a question and a statement, too. Acknowledging the decision she’d crafted into jaggedly into her elegant posture.

“No,” she agreed, so softly. When she glanced over at him again, there was something more than the mourning she felt growing in the pit of her stomach. It was surprising in strength, though not in presence. She’d been curious about this day for centuries, wondering what it would feel like, daring to question the unerring accuracy of her own sight—would it truly, truly occur the way she’d seen it?

If the past was anything to go by, then it would, and that was devastating. But—if for some reason, something went differently? Over the years she’d played with this train of thought enough for hope to fracture through, a gleaming brightness in the sea of murky unease within her mind. Maybe, she thought, it would go differently. Though it was small, light and weightless as hope often is; immeasurable but present; she held onto it with steely determination. It cast her eyes alight with more than moonlight, but expectation, too.

She reached up to the simple crown of silver woven through her hair, and though she smiled, her eyelashes fell.

“I am to be queen,” she whispered, letting the words go with the wind. “It is my duty to protect my people.”

After a long moment of study, Neji agreed. He nodded his head, slowly, waiting for her to say more. “Yes.”

When she turned to him, there was disquiet in her eyes. Conflict. She studied the hardened planes of her cousin’s face, the way time had only made him more beautiful. He was all sharp edges and mystery, her best friend and her counselor. His robes were alabaster white, even finer than her own, heavy on his shoulders. His sleeves would reach the floor at his full height, and Hinata knew him to be a dangerous opponent even with them getting in his way. He was strong, wise, honest, and loyal. A good person for advisement, a strong warrior for protection, a valuable asset to the voice of their people. He was all of those things, and much more, and also her closest friend.

It is with this in mind that she admits her greatest secret to him in a voice too soft to carry.

“I have met him once before,” she watches the way his eyes widen, snapping to her without filter. “It was not seen.”

“When?” He demands, then shakes his head, turning more fully towards her. “No, no. Never mind. That doesn’t matter. When was the last time you had the dream?”

Hinata smiled. Her eyes were heavy. “Last night.”

Neji cursed, low and under his breath, at last turning from her to the grand landscape before them. They sat looking over the entirety of her future kingdom, a pristine and seemingly endless spread of alabaster buildings edged in gold, silver, and onyx. The mountains helped to lift the buildings high into the air, gems reaching from the earth, grazing the sky. And Hinata and Neji, higher than all of them, cast only in moonlight. Disclosing secrets. Hoping for something different.

“Then it is unchanged,” Neji voiced Hinata’s own thoughts, her own fears. She merely watched him a moment longer, eyes still heavy with acceptance of what was to come. What she would have to do. She turned back to the moon and gazed up at her fondly, feeling cherished under the strength of her light, which was bright enough to leech through the surrounding darkness.

“You are certain—” Neji began, and Hinata laughed.

“I would not forget the face or the name, the sound of his voice carrying through my own streets.” She said these words and felt them pulsate in her heart, the dream coming back to her like a chasm opening beneath her. She felt freefalling. “He will come for me. And I will call for him.”

She turned to Neji once more, saw the resignation winning in him, his resolve turning to ash on his tongue. She knew that feeling, too. Had lived with it for decades. Her sight was unerring. They studied one another silently, then, because there was nothing left to say. They both understood what was to come in only hours. Hours were short, felt like nothing, time moving too fast when she’d lived for centuries. An hour was a second, and the hands of time continued to tick, tick, tick away.

They remained there for many silent, heavy moments, until the moon inched her way across the glistening sky. Neji moved first, the heat of his hand on her shoulder remaining long after he left. By the time Hinata stood from the dirt and felt the coolness of the breeze blowing her skirts between her calves, the moon had vanished.

The sun rose before her, as bright and powerful as ever.

She thought of the sunflower.

 

✧

 

It happened just the way she had seen it.

News of his arrival came from the echoes of her own people talking in the streets, reaching her nobles’ ears, and then her own. She sat in the throne room and felt the familiar brush of velvet against her wrists as she leaned back, chin lifted. She thought of going to him, meeting him in the streets, begging him to turn back.

But then she remembered the look in his eyes the first time they’d parted, when he’d held her so close and so carefully she’d felt the impossibility of ever breaking under his watch. The way he’d promised her he’d return, despite her commanding that he didn’t, for his sake, for her own. They would not listen to her please, not even her mother, clan leader and the ultimate elven authority.

An elven princess could not marry a monster, no matter how decorated a warrior he was, or how tender she knew his heart to be.

When it was Neji who came to her side, as she had previously seen, as she knew he would, she sat straight up on her throne. Everything was falling into place. She was the highest authority in their land, with her parents away. Neji was there, as she knew he would be. As she had seen. He put his hand on her shoulder and she heard Hanabi in the halls, knew her swift footsteps well enough to pick them out of a crowd.

She opened the door to the throne room and said nothing. She knew too much, and always said too little. She settled on Hinata’s other side and for a moment, a flicker of time too quick to register, she held Hinata’s hand.

It was time.

The doors opened, almost simultaneously, and her court flooded in. Then her nobles, and so many of her people. All of them beautiful, elegant and chiseled, and afraid. She looked into their faces—she’d seen them all before, with a young girl’s eyes, and she hadn’t understood the gravity of their fear, then.

She felt it now; it pressed her down into the velvet of her throne and she could feel her pulse hammering away in her throat, her wrists.

“An abomination,” she heard, “A monster, disgusting, repulsive, dangerous,” hushed voices bouncing off of the high walls, the higher ceiling. Raining over her like arrows.

One man, braver than the rest with a glimmering fall of sable hair stepped forward. She knew him as more than a brave man, an elven leader, a general, commander of one of their armies. One of her armies. She knew him best, however, as her uncle.

Hizashi looked Hinata in the eyes and with a sweeping gesture of his robes he began to make the demands that the crowd dutifully reinforced.

“You must cast this beast from our lands,” he demanded, spittle flying form his lips. “Or command your warriors to do it for you.”

“It’s not enough to cast him out,” someone called out, and Hinata’s eyes found hers easily in the crowd. Her own were heavy, blank and veiled. All the while, her heart shook, and ached. “All murderous beasts receive the same treatment, why should he be excluded? He has too much light in him. It’s driven him to lurid offences!”

Somewhere, in another time, another universe, parallel with her current reality, she stepped off the throne with her chin raised proudly, and her voice unshaking as she said, “Because I love him.”

Somewhere, in another time, another universe, she allowed herself to be selfish.

Now, however, she remained silent. She heard her people, faced down their demands, understood their fear and felt their needs. She felt Neji tensing next to her and wished that she could reach out to him, tell him it would be alright. That she didn’t blame his father, and neither should he.

She felt far from alright.

Hizashi stepped closer, though his voice would have carried even from across the room. The windows nearly shook with it, his unquestionable anger. He never once looked to Neji. Instead, he folded until he was on one knee, his head bowed, respectful and pleading even as his voice never wavered, his shoulders tense with fury.

“Princess,” he intoned deferentially, before looking up to meet her eyes once more. “I call on you to act in favor of your people. Strike down this monster yourself, or sentence his throat to my blade.”

Hinata lifted her hand and the room fell silent in waves, her eyes casting over them. She gave herself a moment longer to steady herself, ensuring her voice wouldn’t waver, her gaze firm. There was no identifiable allegiance on her face—she knew this, because she’d practiced for decades in order to get it right. She wondered if they could still see the burn behind her eyes, the way fires ate up her insides as the words formed on her tongue.

“I have heard your concerns,” she spoke, deceptively calm with authority. “And I will answer them.”

“This monster you speak of is a human man,” she began, and she could feel the recoil go throughout the room. But she was prepared for it. She’d seen it in her dream for years. “As a noble race, we have prided ourselves on diplomacy. We are not a barbaric people.”

Hizashi remained bowed low, staring grimly up at her, and when Hinata turned back to him she returned that stare unflinchingly. She raised her chin.

“We will not blindly attack a human, however dangerous he may be, without first offering him a chance to explain himself.”

“Princess,” Hizashi cut in, and Hinata allowed it. “He transforms in the night; he’s capable of desecrating entire lands. He shapes light in his hands and uses it to destroy. Were he simply a human, we would never call for such punishment. But he is no human.”

Again, the whispered echo filled the room.

Monster, monster, monster.

Hinata’s heart beat heavier with every whispered pulse, until she was forced to lift her hand again, calling for silence, and order. It took much longer to follow, this time, and she could see the way they hungered for his destruction in their lack of absolute obedience. Elves were notorious for their loyalty, to the crown most of all. Any hesitation in respecting that was a sign of true fracture amongst her people—and something that she had to tread very, very carefully around.

“I will not permit an instant execution. It is not war time.”

“Not now,” Hizashi intoned quietly, voice carrying. “But are you so willing to allow him the chance to start one?”

At the risk of your people was an unspoken but easily heard addendum that had Hinata, for the first time, showing a genuine reaction. She closed her eyes, if only for a second, before returning her tired gaze to Hizashi.

“I will not permit the start of a war. Not his,” she said in acknowledgement, before her gaze sharpened, becoming something stifling and dangerous. “Or yours.”

Hizashi was not cowed. He said, “If you do nothing, princess, you will find out the hard way that war does not care either way for permission.”

Hinata narrowed her eyes. He had worded that perfectly to make it appear she had known nothing of war. She, the general of their armies and the constant wraith on their front lines. In a single sentence, he had made her seem the fool once more, a young and coddled princess, and he the battle-hardened veteran only looking out for their people. She’d known it was coming and yet still allowed herself to walk right into his trap.

“Enough,” she said, chin raised. The crown on her head felt ever-heavier, then.

Hizashi’s lips sealed, the finality of her authority clear. He bowed his head lower and Hinata waited for any other voices to rise, though she knew that there would be none. They were so clearly on the side of execution, Hizashi’s strength of person and interest catching in the air. She had thought to talk her way out of this. To give him a chance. She’d thought herself capable, even as she accepted the consistent truths shown right before her, matching perfectly what she had dreamt. Still, she had hoped.

But now she looked out into the sea of faces, hundreds gathered in fear in her great hall, asking for her to take action in favor of their protection. She was their princess, soon to be their queen, and she had a duty to protect them. Her loyalty, she had been taught, over and over again, was to her people.

Even, she realized suddenly, when she wanted to be loyal to herself.

A queen would put her people first. And a queen she would be.

At long last, she could taste the words she’d dreamt of for decades, for centuries, looming behind her teeth. She’d wondered for years how she’d come to them, how she’d faltered so consistently so as to find herself saying them at all. Now, she understood.

She looked out at her people, and she didn’t let them see the way her heart wavered. This, she remembered clearly. The chasm opening under her, shaking her apart. The reality of her sentencing her beloved to death.

She was no longer foolish. She understood that nothing could defeat the passage of time or the way it weaved itself into a tapestry even elves couldn’t alter.

It was cruel and unfair, but she had lived for a long time and she knew that life and time were not careful with lovers who belonged together down to their souls.

She thought of the sun that morning, and the inevitable way it rose to meet her.

“Bring me the man who has gone mad with the light,” she said, her heart breaking, remember the first time she’d seen him—light had stuck to him, captivated by the radiance of his presence. He’d smiled when he first met her. Reached out and touched her cheek before he left her.

“And I will serve him his justice.”


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NaruHina, Unprompted: The first time Hinata met Naruto’s parents, blood still dripped from her fingers.  
> Rating: _General Audiences._

The first time Hinata met Naruto’s parents, blood still dripped from her fingers.

It was an accidental meeting— _obviously_ , she thought with frustration, straightening even as she wiped her bloodied fingers against the tattered material of her pants. She knew she looked a mess, chagrined and mortified, battle-worn and panting. She cleared her throat as Naruto’s father blinked at her, mouth gaping. Uzumaki Kushina was shorter than Hinata had imagined, brushing by the Yondaime’s shoulder. She was beautiful, soft and strong. Hinata felt like she knew her, from all of Naruto’s praises. Kushina’s dazzling scarlet hair grazed the backs of her knees, and Hinata self-consciously tucked some of her own hair behind her ear.

“Hello,” she greeted breathlessly, ducking her head politely. The body behind her heel made a noise, low and groaning. She ignored it with a blink. Namikaze Minato’s eyes dropped to the noise, returned to the smear of drying blood on the hinge of Hinata’s jaw. She ignored that, too.

“Hello,” he returned slowly, the corner of his mouth quirking. Hinata caught the expression with a sudden burst of joy, saw so clearly the way that same gesture curled the corners of Naruto’s lips, too. With that same amusement held in his voice, he asked, “Is this a bad time?”

There was no hiding how sheepish she felt. She wasn’t exactly embarrassed—she had been returning home from a mission, doing her duty, when a rogue had come at her with kunai and jutsu, both. He’d mentioned her father, her family, her eyes. Something about revenge. One of the select few shinobi she’d been gathering intelligence on, and foolish enough to track her back to her roots. Her ribs still stung with the kiss of one of his blades, the blood seeping through her jacket the only bit that belonged to her.

But regardless of how appropriate her reaction was, she had never _once_ entertained the thought that the first time she’d meet Naruto’s parents, she’d have a body at her feet. Blood on her hands. A potentially life-threatening wound. And for all these reasons, she felt sheepish.

“I sincerely apologize,” she offered quickly, holding her hands out. A mistake; the ruddy hue of them drew the eye, and she quickly yanked them back behind her tailbone, blushing. “You’ve caught me in an unfortunate moment.”

“I’d say,” Minato nodded, not unkindly. He glanced around for the first time, eyes scanning the trees. “Do you need help?”

Hinata shook her head, her senses already reaching, knowing they were alone. Just her, the body…and Naruto’s parents.

“No, thank you, he was definitely the only pursuer.”

“Ah,” Minato nodded, and Hinata watched the way he leaned ever so slightly towards Kushina, almost unconsciously. She thought suddenly of Naruto and his unashamed physicality, the ways he always seemed to need to be close to her, regardless of what they were doing. Or where they were. She thought of the time she’d laughed, pulling him in against her chest and asking, “Do you even realize how close you always get?”

“Eh?” He’d grunted, nuzzling against her neck, enjoying the warmth of their embrace. “I like being close to you. Is that weird?”

“Not weird,” she’d assured.

“It’s like—whenever I see you, I just have to touch you. Even when I have so much on my mind, my thoughts so freaking loud, I always find myself reaching for ya.”

She’d kissed him then, touched and shaken. She wondered if Minato’s movement towards his wife was willful, or as unconscious yet needed as Naruto’s own intimacy.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” she couldn’t help but gush, the words skimming through. It was a poor attempt at distraction, genuine as the words were. She couldn’t help but shrink slightly under Kushina’s unwavering gaze. If there was a test here, Hinata thought wryly, she’d probably already failed. Naruto was going to be _heartbroken._ “Naruto holds both of you in such high esteem. I’m very happy to meet you both at last, though the timing…”

“It’s understandable,” Minato placated warmly, totally understanding.

“Yes,” Kushina said, speaking up for the first time. Hinata’s eyes widened at the smile on her lips, sincere and kind as it was. Crinkles appeared at the sides of her eyes, and Hinata recognized this, too. Naruto had a similar ability—drawing all the light inwards, and holding it close. “We got here a little earlier than you may have noticed, actually.”

The words sent dread dripping down Hinata’s spine.

“We saw the end of your fight, here. You left yourself open quite a bit.” Kushina’s tone was equal parts questioning and disapproving, though not for the reasons Hinata had been expecting. She had thought the worst, of course; Kushina returning home to ask Naruto why he’d chosen someone as cruel and indifferent as she, who’d killed a man pursuing her for vengeance. Someone fairer would’ve incapacitated them, even if they were vicious and lethal. Someone fairer would’ve brought them in for justice, even if they nearly died doing so.

But Hinata had fought for her life against this deranged man, at the tragic expense of his own. She’d thought Minato and Kushina would cringe away from her, radiate disapproval. Instead, she felt the warmth of their concern, saw the way Minato searched her for wounds and found the blood on her jacket. She heard the disapproval in Kushina’s voice, and realized at once that it was not for the battle or the man, but for Hinata’s well-being.

She had in fact hesitated. This man had come for her without hesitation, every strike aimed at vital organs and soft flesh. He’d been good—good enough to keep her on her toes, to ensure she was wholly focused on him and him alone. Twice she’d seen openings in his defenses, and let them pass. Twice he’d moved past her own, and she’d paid the price for them. Kushina had seen it all.

Hinata hesitated, deciding to be sincere. “I…did not want to kill him.”

Minato’s eyes softened, even as he and Kushina both frowned.

“He was not hesitating,” Kushina said, a question that wasn’t a question.

“No,” Hinata whispered, and the breeze pulled her hair from behind her ear, skewing her view.

“That’s exactly the kind of recklessness we discourage time and again in Naruto,” Kushina explained, pursing her lips. “He always tells us the same excuse.”

“Every life matters,” Hinata says without hesitation, smiling slightly. “Even those we disagree with.”

“Yes,” Kushina says slowly, blinking. She sighed. “I don’t know if you got the sentiment from him, or if you’re made from the same stuff. Naruto has always just been _like that_. Kind from the very depths of his heart. Even to his enemies.”

“Yes,” Hinata breathed, and her chest felt tight. “It makes me worry for him, sometimes.”

“And I,” Kushina whispered, as Minato’s fingers slipped through her own. He dipped his chin, a silent assent, and Hinata watched how they leaned against one another in solidarity. A moment of concern for their beloved flashing over their features in a single, fine wave of gleaming emotion. “But he’s more… _him,_ because of it. He’s more beautiful, and stronger, and truer, that way.”

“He is,” Hinata agreed. The sun flickered through the canopy above them, the shadowed shapes of leaves dancing over her in flickering shadows and sunlight.

Kushina pursed her lips again, and after a moment of study her eyes softened. She said, “I think I see that in you, too, Hinata.”

Surprised, Hinata blinked. She inhaled slightly, feeling her cheeks heat. Her lips parted in a startled _oh._

Kushina’s eyes were kind. “Though it makes you all those things, too, it also means that Naruto is going to worry in the same way that you do for him.”

Minato spoke then, his voice surprisingly stern. “The wound on your ribs is proof enough that he has good reason to worry, too.”

Before Hinata could offer any excuses, Kushina said, “If you’re going to hesitate, you need to be strong enough to do so without opening yourself up to injury. Do you understand what I mean?”

And Hinata did, so clearly. Their concern was not only for her well-being, which was touching enough as it was; they were worried for Naruto’s attachment to her, too. If she was injured, Naruto’s intangible worry would turn to real, felt pain. She knew this as well as his parents did; she had seen the way he shattered whenever she returned in less than the condition she’d left him in. He felt so strongly, in all ways. Including pain.

It was clear that his parents were telling her to take better care of herself. Out of concern for her well-being, and their son’s. She felt herself smiling, shy and touched, and stepped closer to them. Away from the dormant threat at her heels.

“I understand,” she promised. “I will take more care.” Kushina’s smile stole from the sunrise, just as breathtaking as it rose over her features. Minato’s mirrored it until his eyes crinkled shut, and he rubbed at the nape of his neck. Hinata recognized that, too.

“Thank you,” Kushina said kindly, “For loving our son, and taking care, Hinata.”

And then, with added fondness, she added: “Our future daughter-in-law.”

Hinata’s cheeks flared red, her heart stuttering in her chest, and Minato’s laughter moved through her in heated waves. His smile was brilliant.

Naruto’s parents gazed down at her amid her recent battlefield, with dried blood on her fingertips and hope filling her heart, and smiled.

Naruto’s father reached out to her, gently squeezing her shoulder.

“It’s very, very nice to meet you, Hinata.”


End file.
